


Carpe Noctem

by hayleyisbored



Series: Carpe Noctem [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A little angst, Drama, Falling In Love, Family, Friendship, Friendship/Love, M/M, Marauders' Era, Romance, Slow Burn, low key pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-03 23:51:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 54,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13352109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hayleyisbored/pseuds/hayleyisbored
Summary: Magic is blood on trembling hands. Magic is the balm that soothes old wounds.The moon and stars find one another in the darkness.





	1. Chapter 1

Remus John Lupin can hardly believe his luck. Then he wishes he'd never heard of the name Albus Dumbledore, or the magical school of Hogwarts.

When the thick, yellow envelope bearing a red wax emblem arrived one morning, Remus hardly knew what to make of it; he'd never received much post in his name before then, nor anything quite so official looking but his father reacted with excitement at the sight of it, so much so that is was hard for Remus to be anything other than excited too.

Of course, that was all quickly done away with the longer that letter sat on their mantelpiece, bearing the list of appropriate school items and an invitation to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It began to feel like a burden instead, growing heavier each day. It showed in the strain in his father's face, in the murmured conversations his parents had when he was in bed and they thought he couldn't hear them, his mother's quiet sobs.

"How would they manage it, Lyall? It's a boarding school, there are other students there. Remus is - he's -"

"I know, I know. Dumbledore said he would visit, he said it's all taken care of. He wants to assure Remus personally. Strictly speaking, my love, I'd like to be reassured myself."

Remus had heard of Hogwarts, naturally. It had been a curiosity for as long as he can remember, his desire to know more burning even as he lay and listened to the worries of his mother and father from beneath his bed sheets. He knows magic can be a deadly thing, that it can sneak into your house and put fire in your bones and blood on your teeth with the fullness of the moon, and fills you with such loathing to make you wish that there was no such thing as magic at all.

But Remus knows it can be wonderful, too.

His father had attended in his youth, shared stories of ghosts and house cups and magnificent feasts with a bittersweet tang on his tongue; he wanted to tell Remus all about Hogwarts, he wanted to never breathe a word. He thought Remus would never be allowed to follow in his footsteps, not after the incident. Lyall Lupin feels responsible. He feels guilty. He can hardly look at Remus without a wash of regret for his run in with Fenrir Greyback and a yearning to turn back time for his mistake, for ruining his son's life irrevocably beyond a chance of repair. How can he ever look back at his own school days with fondness and sweet sighs of nostalgia knowing he has denied Remus the very same thing?

"Oh, but if anyone should find out - I couldn't bear for Remus to face that, I just can't."

His father's voice sounded tired and stretched thin. "Dumbledore swore it wouldn't be a problem. I trust him, love. In the wizarding world, Albus Dumbledore is a name you can rely on."

"I wish I had that confidence, Lyall."

Albus Dumbledore keeps to his word. He arrives a month before the school year starts, pockets spilling over with sherbet lemons and dressed head to toe in rich purple; the sight of him in their home beside the pile of dirty wellington boots and sweeping into the tiny sitting room after his father is enough to render Remus quite speechless.

He shows Remus those wonderful things that magic can do, ten times more extraordinary than anything Remus has seen before, and makes promises that he is as welcome at Hogwarts as any other student before and after him. He is a marvel to Remus, instantaneously turning his head with possibilities and a kindness he rarely feels from anyone except his parents. Remus looks into Albus Dumbledore's eyes and thinks he will never see a more interesting face, nor a more sincere one; he decides that if this is the sort of person Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has to offer, the least he could do is try.

His mother is a little less easy to persuade.

"I'm sure you received our letter? Remus has always been homeschooled ever since - since his accident. I'm worried it could all be too much for him, he's not had the chance to be around people his own age..." 

Dumbledore patiently sips at the tea cup his father held out for him on his arrival, staring over his half-moon glasses at Remus and his mother beside him with measured thoughtfulness.

"I can assure you, we have made all the necessary arrangements so that Remus' time at Hogwarts will be as wholesome and enjoyable as his peers. If Remus were to ever feel overwhelmed by the experience, I - along with his head of house, I should say - will be more than willing to sit down and talk with him about his concerns. You may have my word on that, Mr Lupin." Dumbledore adds, nodding in Remus' direction.

"Yes, but Mr. Dumbledore, what about the moon - " Mrs Lupin breaks off and glances at Remus with a skittish look in her eyes. "Darling, why don't you go and have one of those biscuits we made earlier, hmm? Perhaps you can bring Mr. Dumbledore some?"

Remus unwillingly leaves the fascinating company of Dumbledore and retreats to the much more monotonous comfort of the kitchen, losing track of the conversation and only catching snippets as he removes the biscuits from the cooling rack and onto a chipped plate. Remus is an unassuming but attentive boy, reading situations better than most adults would. He knows his mother wishes to speak to Albus Dumbledore alone, so removes himself from the room until the headmaster is all but ready to leave.

When he eventually makes his way back into the front room, clutching a plate of neatly stacked biscuits, Dumbledore is standing up and smoothing wrinkles from the front of his robes.

"Ah, Mr. Lupin! I'm afraid you return just as I must go - would you indulge an old man and please accompany me to the door?" 

Remus looks over at his mother, who is relatively calmer and appeased than before Dumbledore's visit, and catches the encouraging nod of her head, her hand seeking her husband's on her shoulder.

Together, he walks with Dumbledore through the small hallway and out onto the porch step, momentarily silent as they watch a lone bird fly overhead in the pale blue sky. Remus still holds the plate of biscuits, unsure whether to offer one now that he is leaving.

"Your mother wants the best for you, Remus." Dumbledore begins, turning to look down at him with a small, gentle smile. "I believe you will make an excellent addition to our school - that is, if you wish to attend. Our arrangements for your condition have been taken care of with the utmost attention; I hope you find them to be agreeable. I can only strongly urge you to consider and nothing more, the choice lies with you alone."

Out of his parents’ earshot, Remus speaks the words he would never dare to before them. 

"But what if the other children make fun of me? I'm different. What if they don't like me?"

Albus' face softens, his eyes twinkling. "You have faced a great deal of hardship for one so young. Do not think that it makes you any less of a person than I am, Mr. Lupin. You will always find friends at Hogwarts, I can promise you that much. Goodbye for now, Remus."

Remus finds he can no longer hold his gaze and drops it instead to the plate of biscuits, a thought occuring to him as he hears the crunch of gravel as Dumbledore makes his way down the garden path. 

"Wait! Mr. Dumbledore!"

Albus Dumbledore turns, politely expectant.

"Do you - do you want a biscuit?"

Dumbledore raises an eyebrow in surprise, chuckles and accepts one from the plate, "Perhaps I shall have one - for the road, as they say."

Remus watches Albus Dumbledore quietly snap the gate behind him as he leaves, purple robes swirling in a neat pirouette as he disappears into thin air. Everything slips back into being ordinary again, as if nothing incredible has happened; inside the house, Remus can hear the sounds of plates being set at the table, his father humming a tuneless song from the living room, ready to pick up their daily routine.

He loves his life, for the most part. He loves his parents, and their quiet mornings together, and the gentle pace in which they pass their days. He likes learning things from them and knowing that it's okay to get things wrong sometimes, and the closeness they have developed from being around each other every day.

But Remus is lonely. He craves friendship and the chance to feel like everybody else his age. He wonders at Dumbledore's promise of friends at Hogwarts and the opportunity seems too momentous to pass up. Remus decides that he is tired of his version of ordinary.

He's ready to try something new.

***

There's too much noise here for Remus. There's mewing and croaking and screeching and shouting, whistling and crying all assaulting his ears at once. Remus feels small and inconsequential on the long stretch of Platform Nine & Three Quarters, a tide of strangers threatening to flood the safe harbour of his little family.

"I don't think I want to go anymore, I want to stay home with you." Remus confesses, looking between the anxious faces of his parents.

His father drops onto one knee, hands heavy but comforting on Remus' shoulders. He feels the fingers there squeeze gently as his father leans in close to whisper, as if letting Remus in on a great secret.

"I know it feels scary right now." his father says softly, already lined eyes crinkling further when he smiles. "But you're going to be a great wizard, Remus, I know you will be. I look at you and do you know what I feel?"

Remus shakes his head, no.

"Pride." his father tells him simply. "Never doubt how proud I am of you. I count myself fortunate every day for having you. Hogwarts is going to teach you so many amazing, unbelievable things and you're going to take to it all like a duck to water."

"You'll be marvellous, darling!" his mother chips in, beaming widely. "You can write to me every day about all the things you're learning."

"I'd rather be with you." Remus whimpers, starting to attract curious glances. "I just want everything to stay as it is!"

"Darling," his mother says calmly, kneeling down too, taking no care of her freshly pressed trousers - a special effort for their visit to London. "Darling, you only feel this way because it's new and you feel like you're thrown in at the deep end. I know exactly how you're feeling."

Remus tilts his head, dubious. "You do?"

"Of course! When I first met your father and he told me he could do magic, I thought he was completely off his rocker. When I found out it was all true, why - I had to learn everything you already know! It was dizzying and riveting and - oh, Remus, I know you're going to love it."

Remus stares up at the gleaming scarlet steam engine, at the faces pressed into its windows and the arms flung out for last minute goodbyes. He hitches his bag up higher on his shoulder and stands a little straighter.

"Are you ready, son?" his father asks with a smile that says he already knows the answer.

"I'm ready."

His parents walk him to the nearest carriage, helping him up onto the Hogwarts Express. Behind him, other children are bustling about excitedly, squeezing by him as he says goodbye to his mother and father.

"If you ever need anything, all you have to do is write, darling." his mother tells him. "And try not to worry too much. Everything is going to be fine.

"We love you so much, Remus." his father says, watery eyed and beaming. "Don't forget to have fun."

A loud whistle rises above all the noise, the doors of the train begin swinging shut of their own accord. Through the window, Remus watches his parents wave, trying not to panic as the train begins to pull away from the platform. He waits until his mother and father shrink away into nothing before he starts to look for a compartment; he has never been alone before, he has no idea what he's doing and the realisation almost topples him.

Every compartment he passes is full, the occupants already talking and forming acquaintances. He walks the length of the train searching for somewhere he would feel comfortable sitting but every time he stops at a door, he can't build up enough nerve to walk in and ask if he'd be welcome.

"This is stupid, Remus." he mutters to himself after half an hour of pacing the train. He peers inside the closest compartment, finding only two students in there. He steels himself. "Just open the door, you can do this."

He knocks before entering, not letting himself wait a second longer. The students look up, a boy who must be another first year and an older boy. They both have the same mop of dirty blonde hair and Remus surmises that they have to be related.

"Can I sit in here with you? The whole train is full and - "

"Of course. He can sit with us, can't he, Michael?"

The older boy nods and goes back to staring out of the window. Remus shuffles into the compartment and chooses the seat next to the door. He tells himself it's not in case of a quick escape if his new companions turn out to be a terrible decision on his part; he won't spend the journey sitting out in the corridor on his own. He _won't._

"Michael is just mad because our mum made him sit with me on the way instead of his friends. It's my first year but Michael is going to be a third year." the boy explains, his sandy head nodding as he talks. "I'm Jeremy."

"Remus."

They lapse into an awkward few minutes of silence before Jeremy perks up again.

"Given any thought to what house you'll be in?"

Truth be told, Remus had never thought about it until that second. "My dad told me he was in Ravenclaw. Maybe I'll end up there?"

Jeremy carries on nodding, his head bopping up and down fast. Remus wonders if he'll ever stop. "It usually runs in the family. My brother is a Hufflepuff and my mum was before him. I can't wait to get there, I've heard loads of stories - I bet you have too, huh?"

"Uh - my dad sometimes mentioned - "

"I've heard there are merpeople living in the lake. Pretty neat, right?"

Jeremy, now apparent to Remus, is a great talker; this suits Remus just fine because he was starting to find out that conversation alluded him. Jeremy fills up the majority of their time on the train; he tells Remus all about what he knows of Hogwarts, of the place he was born, the day he got his letter and then everything in between. Even Michael stirs occasionally to offer his own tales, describing the vastness of the Great Lake for his brother's benefit, the sorts of lessons and its teachers for Remus.

By the time the Trolley Witch has come and gone - Jeremy resolute on sharing his pack of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans with Remus - they're more than comfortable with one another.

"Have you tried the green one, Remus? I swear it was bogey - yours is apple? I guess that's my rotten luck, isn't it?"

"Jer, we're pulling into Hogsmeade now. I'm going to go find my friends, okay?" Michael says, stretching his arms over his head. "You'll be going across the lake on boats so I won't see you until the Sorting. Good luck - you too, Remus."

Remus is sad to see Michael go. He found the presence of someone older than him quite calming and now, they have to fend for themselves.

"Come on, Remus, everyone is getting off."

Together, he and Jeremy step out on the drizzly platform. Everybody around them seems to tower over them, none more so than the man calling out to first years. He wades through the sea of students, waving a lantern above his head.

"Firs' years, this way! Come on, budge along!"

Remus would never say so but he's never seen any person quite so large. The man looks down at them with shining black eyes, a wide smile mostly obscured by his thick beard. He seems cheerful enough so Remus offers a tiny smile of his own, having to tip his head all the way back for the man to see his face.

"Firs' years? Follow me!"

They follow the man, collecting a few more straggling students on their way to a line of boats awaiting them at the edge of a large black lake. Michael certainly hadn't been exaggerating in his descriptions; the body of water stretched out before them into the night, so dark that you can't see where the sky begins and the water ends. At the other edge, thousands of twinkling lights shine like beacons in greeting - windows, Remus discerns.

"Climb on in, four ter a boat! No pushin', room enough for yer all!"

The journey across the lake is smooth, if a little damp from the rain. The closer they come to the castle, the more the scale of its grandeur dawns on Remus. It's breathtaking; turrets upon turrets, blue tinged stone in the moonlight and peppered with flickering candlelight, a lone owl glides across the crescent moon. Remus wants to stare at it forever.

"Alrigh', one at a time now. Don' want yer fallin' in, see?" the giant man instructs, helping them out of their boats in turn. "Beg yer pardon, I forgot to introduce m'self - Rubeus Hagrid, gamekeeper and Keeper o' the Keys and Grounds here at Hogwarts, at yer service."

Jeremy prods Remus in the ribs and indicates to the boats and the lake beyond, "That was something, wasn't it, Remus?"

When they are all once again settled on dry land, Hagrid steers them through a passageway lined with brackets crackling merrily with fire. It's all so new and daunting, and although Remus is lucky enough to have an inkling of what awaits them, he has to clamp his lips together to keep his teeth from chattering.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I shall take over from this point."

An imposing witch stands at the top of a short flight of stairs before oak doors, dressed in emerald green and casting a dissecting eye over the newest residents of Hogwarts. Remus knows enough of people to recognise that this is a woman who shouldn't be tried; he shrinks at the sight of her, hoping he'll never get on her bad side during his time here.

"My name is Minerva McGonagall. You shall address me as Professor while you are studying here, " she begins, her glance sweeping over them all. "We look forward to having you here and hope you uphold our exceptional standards. If you excuse me, I will see if they are ready for you."

She slips trough the heavy doors; they can hear the murmuring of a large gathering of people on the other side and Remus' knees begin to buckle. What was he thinking coming here? He should have stayed at home with his mother and father where he was safe. He makes an effort to control his breathing, ignoring Jeremy who won't stop muttering to him under his breath.

Professor McGonagall reappears, adjusting her spectacles. The room behind her has gone deadly quiet. "It's time. If you may, follow me - two rows, please." she orders, marching through the vast doors without looking back to see if they are walking after her.

Remus gulps but manages to get his feet to move, although the rest of his body feels entirely numb. They come through into the Great Hall and Remus can't even appreciate the ceiling glittering above them with stars and swirling clouds because it's taking everything in him to focus on his steps.

Their group comes to a halt in front of a single stool and a grubby hat - the Sorting Hat, Remus recalls. He tries not to think about the whole school sitting just behind him.

"When I call your name, you will sit on the stool and I shall place the Hat onto your head. You will then be Sorted and shall proceed to take your place at the appropriate table." Professor McGonagall informs them, holding a scroll of parchment in her hand. "Allen, Kenneth."

The Hat, it transpires, will not be rushed into making its decisions. Some students come and go before they can get settled on the stool. Others are forced to wait anxiously, hands gripping the side of the stool, as the Hat mulls over the contents of their head.

It's a jittery process for those waiting their turn. Remus doesn't know how much time has passed since they entered the hall but he starts to feel exposed in their rapidly dwindling pack. Jeremy is being unnaturally silent beside him, and Remus is at least a little relieved to realise that he's not alone in his apprehension.

"Leek, Jeremy."

Jeremy jumps at the sound of his name and races up to the stool, not even waiting for McGonagall to place the Hat on his head herself. He holds onto the brim of the Hat with an admirable determination until -

"Hufflepuff!"

Remus watches Jeremy seat himself at his house table, immediately lost within the shifting bodies of his fellow Hufflepuffs as they reach out to greet him. Now all on his own, Remus begins to feel sick.

Professor McGongall clears her throat to regain attention, "Lupin, Remus."

The nausea doubles and it takes a moment for him to summon the courage to make towards the stool. He casts a longing glance at the Hufflepuff table as he passes by, thinking that if he could at least be sorted into there, he'd know one person and it wouldn't be so bad. Jeremy, seated beside his brother, gives him a friendly thumbs up.

"I can do it." he thinks to himself. "I can do it."

Remus mounts the first step - and trips. He trips in front of the whole school and wishes the ground would eat him up even as he pushes himself to go on; he can hear a few titters from the hall behind him, a sardonic snort, and then the severe shushing of a teacher.

He chances a peek at the staff table, instantly catching the twinkling blue eye of Albus Dumbledore, who inclines his head ever so slightly as if in encouragement.

With a deep breath, Remus hoists himself up onto the stool, wishing that his feet wouldn't dangle so uselessly below him; it makes him feel younger than he is, it makes him feel helpless. The rest of the school watch furtively as the Sorting Hat slips over his entire face, the scent now filling his nostrils musty but not altogether unpleasant.

"Ah," a voice mutters in his ears. "I see, I see. Quite conflicted for such a young mind..."

Remus automatically tries to clear his head of thoughts, jumping a little when the hat speaks again.

"There's no use in that, I see everything right here. All your hopes...dreams...fears..."

Remus waits, breathes, trying to calm his hammering heart. He tells himself that he deserves to be here, he remembers Dumbledore's words from his visit, he remembers the way he felt before boarding the train, of stepping into the unknown for the first time. He's no longer a boy standing at the edge of a life he's always wanted: he's living it.

"Ah, there it is. I know exactly where to put you...GRYFFINDOR!"

The noise that erupts from the table where the Gryffindors are seated is deafening. Remus almost stumbles back into the stool when he jumps off of it, the cheering is so loud. His feet move without command and when Remus falls onto the bench, suddenly converged by claps on the back and strangers hands wringing his own, he sees another first year amidst all of the din.

The boy seems to be already bored of the ceremony, his scruff of dark waves falling into his eyes as he idly fiddles with the spoon in front of him. Remus thinks it strange that the boy can act as if all of this doesn't matter to him; he can't stop looking around and taking it in, he has to keep from pinching himself, from gawking at all these new faces.

Unburdened from the anticipation of waiting to be Sorted, Remus is free to relax and watch the rest of the ceremony. He claps just as loudly as the rest of his house when new members join them at their table and excitedly scans the rest of the Great Hall, taking in his home for the next seven years.

The last name is called - the final Ravenclaw of the year - and Dumbledore stands, tapping the side of his goblet with his wand. The students fall silent, craning their necks to gaze up at the headmaster.

"Welcome, new and old! I trust that after a little time away, you are all eager to resume your studies. I have just a few words before we indulge ourselves in our excellent feast: I am sorry to harangue you all over this detail but alas, I must repeat myself once more; students are absolutely prohibited from entering the Forbidden Forest. It is residence to many a magical creature who respect our shared home and I ask that you pay them back in kind. Also, our caretaker Mr. Filch would like to stress that dungbombs, though exceedingly good fun, are not permitted within school perimeters. Any student found in possession of such an item shall be duly disciplined."

Dumbledore surveys the waiting crowd with a pleasant smile, "Now that formalities are out of the way, one last thing: enjoy!"

The golden plates and platters laid out along the entire length of the table are suddenly filled with more food than Remus has ever seen in his life. Every hand reaches out to stake their claim and Remus can't help but grab one of everything. He listens enthusiatically to the chatter of his fellow Gryffindors but keeps his head down, overwhelmed by the non-stop rush of jokes and catching up and friendly greetings.

By the time the Prefect stands up at the end of the feast and calls out to all the first years to gather around, Remus is yet to speak to a single soul. He lurks at the back of the group and absorbs his surroundings, gaping in wonder at the portraits scrabbling to catch a glimpse of the new students, head spinning at the magnificent moving staircase which goes higher than he can see.

The higher they go, the quieter the castle grows as voices fade to a mere echo below. Just when Remus' legs start to stiffen from their relentless climbing, the Prefect stops them before a portrait of a lady in a pink silk gown. He introduces her to the new students and she inclines her head in acknowledgement, her low throaty voice uttering a single word.

"Password?"

"Carpe Noctem."

The portrait swings forwards, revealing a brightly lit passageway. "Enter."

They all clamber in after one another, keeping together in a closely knit pack. Remus manages to get the impression of a roaring fire, cosy wingback armchairs in obligatory red and gold, and intricate tapestries bearing lions hung from the walls before two older students accost them as they cluster into the middle of the room.

"Ooooh, fresh blood. Hey, have you told them about Nearly Headless Nick yet?" asks the taller of the two. She beams down at them in welcome, her school tie already pulled off and slung over her shoulder, shoes lost to the common room.

One first year is brave enough to speak up, "Who's Nearly Headless Nick?"

"He's our ghost. Hufflepuff have the Fat Friar, Ravenclaw have the Grey Lady, Slytherins get the Bloody Baron - rather them than us though."

The short one flops down into one of the armchairs, tucking her feet beneath herself. "If you don't spin in a circle three times and clap your hands while standing on your head, Nick'll hover over you while you sleep and recreate the day he was beheaded - "

The first years gasp in horror and clutch at each other, wide eyed with fear. Remus has never seen a ghost before; he finds himself gazing about the room with interest, wondering what a ghost with a severed head would look like.

"Technically nearly beheaded." the tall girl corrects, grinning when the Prefect rolls his eyes and pushes her away.

"He will _not_. Please, Nick might occasionally come into the common room but it's rare we find him in here." the Prefect lowers his voice and leans in, as if afraid the ghost will descend upon them at any moment. "Just maybe keep an eye out for him when he does show up - he just won't stop talking about that bloody Headless Hunt. I tell you, I'm absolutely sick of hearing about it. He just goes on and on and - what was that, Connie? Oh, yes - ahem - first years, if you just look here, these staircases will lead you to your dormitories. Why don't you get yourselves acquainted with the common room before everyone else arrives - "

Remus is the first to reach his dormitory, slipping away early from the group for a quiet moment of reprieve and explore in solitude.

The room is large and circular, every inch covered in smooth stone and tapestry, safe and comforting, wrapping him in a bubble of tranquility. All the school trunks have already been brought up but Remus doesn't bother with his yet, only locates his bag and pulls out a chocolate, popping it into his mouth. He chews thoughtfully looking around the dormitory, silently impressed and approving.

It's peaceful, the quietness reminding him of home. He feels a dreadful pang of longing for his parents at that, eats another chocolate, then another. Remus drifts to the window and places his bag on the nearby bed, thinking how he'd enjoy being so near a place where he can look out at the night sky without fear. Outside, an owl hoots serenely. It might even be easy to love the moon living here.

"I've already claimed that."

Remus starts, not having heard anyone enter the room. It's the boy from the feast, the one who was bored. Up close and with his full attention fixed on Remus, he seems to be lit from within, a defiant fierceness. Remus has to fight not to squint looking at him, squirming under the intensity of his steel grey gaze, an authority in his gait that demands respect.

"S-sorry?"

The boy gestures at the four poster bed near the window, the one where Remus' bag lies atop of. "The bed. It's mine." His voice is distinctly polished, clipped, and very upper class. It has a way of making Remus think that he is snapping his fingers at him without actually doing it. Remus has never heard a voice like this in real life.

Remus suddenly wishes, as he often does, for his mother's beautiful lilting Welsh accent. She has a knack of calming people, making even the most mundane of sentences sound like a song. Instead, Remus' accent is a muddle of English and Welsh, a product of their constant moving around after he was bitten.

"It is? I didn't realise - there was no trunk on it, I just thought - "

"I claimed it before I even got here. As soon as I got on the train, I declared that the bed closest to the window - if there were any windows at all - shall be mine. It's just the way it is." he explains with an air of inherited bossiness, kicking his shoes off and hurling them under the bed.

"Oh, okay. I'll move over there..."

"It's nothing personal, you know. I just already planned it. " the boy says breezily, moving to where Remus had previously stood at the window. "You're that boy who tripped, aren't you? I'm Sirius, by the way. Sirius Black." he adds, staring pointedly as if waiting for Remus to react to his introduction. He speaks as if his name means something.

Before Remus can blink, the dormitory door opens with a loud creak, so loud that Remus can't believe he hadn't heard it before and a boy with glasses too big for his face and truly unruly hair marches into the room. He doesn't say a word, only locates his school trunk and hoists it up with both hands, dumping it unceremoniously onto the bed closest to the door, the glasses on his bony nose slipping down slightly.

"Make yourself at home, by all means." Sirius pipes up, finally gaining the attention of the boy.

"Black." the boy says. The word sounds like a statement rather than a greeting and it's met with a twitch of an eyebrow from Sirius. He merely tilts his head to the side and loftily scans the other boy from head to toe, all the way back to his face again.

"Potter, isn't it?"

"I'd rather you call me James seeing as we'll be sharing a room for a while." the boy replies coolly, looking across and noticing Remus half in shadow. "Oh, hullo! I didn't see you there."

James Potter puts Remus at ease immediately. His broad West Country accent seems to boom through the dormitory, somehow perpetuating a warm, genuine friendliness despite the new acquaintance.

"I can't believe I'm going to have to listen to that voice for the next seven years." Sirius says with no attempt to hide his horror.

"Well, not all of us can sound like we've sucked on a lemon, Black."

"I'll ask you to call me Sirius, if I'm to call you James."

James steps over to him, holding out a hand. "Let's start again then, shall we? Hullo, I'm James. I'm looking forward to sharing a room with you."

Sirius looks down at the hand extended to him, surprisingly taking it with a firm grip after only a moment's hesitation. "Sirius. Pleasure."

"Good. Now that that's over with, if you excuse me - "

James takes a running leap and dives onto his bed, shaking the entire structure. He starts to bounce on the mattress, nodding his head in satisfaction after a few minutes of this demonstration.

"What in the name of Merlin are you doing, Pot - uh, James?"

"Testing out the bed, of course. I was worried about it.I'm not very good sleeping in a different bed but this is alright, isn't it?"

"I suppose." Sirius appears to not know what to make of James Potter. He spares a glance at Remus before tugging his trunk to the foot of his newly acquired bed, pulling it open with a loud click. "I'm just glad that ceremony is over with. I thought I was going to die where I sat if it took any longer."

"It wasn't that bad."

"Your last name doesn't start with a B. I was right at the beginning, I had to sit through the rest of you. If that wasn't bad enough, that hat itched worse than Wartcap powder." Sirius sniffs haughtily. "I couldn't wait to get it off of me."

"I thought it was creepy, the way it got inside my brain. It took its time Sorting you, didn't it?" James says, peering over his glasses to look at Sirius. He folds his arms up behind his head and stifles a yawn. "You looked annoyed the whole time it was on your head."

"Only because I kept asking the thing if it was sure." he replies shortly, examining a hole in a sock before tossing it back into his school trunk. "It insisted I was a Gryffindor and I wanted to be certain it was right because my family - "

"What?"

Sirius shrugs, "Nothing. Anyway, I can't do anything about it now, even if I wanted. I suppose your parents were gunning for you to be in Gryffindor."

"So what if they were?"

Sirius ignores him and glances over at Remus, who is perched gingerly on the edge of his second choice of bed. "What about you?"

Remus starts. James and Sirius are both staring at him and his mind goes blank, "Me?"

"No, the hippogriff behind you. Of course you. Did your parents want you to be in a specific house?"

"They're just happy I'm here at all." Remus confesses, turning bright red when he realises he's implied too much. "Uh - what I mean is - Hogwarts is a great school, from what I've heard..."

Sirius appraises Remus but doesn't say anything beyond, "Huh. What's your name again?"

"Remus Lupin."

"Nice to meet you, Remus. Something tells me you're going to love me."

None of them realise when their final roommate sneaks into the dormitory to join them. Peter Pettigrew takes one quick, sweeping glance around the room, locates the sole free bed and climbs into it without breathing a word to anyone, leaving his trunk forgotten in the corner until morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, it's taken two years to get this fanfic completed. It was like trying to wring water from a dry sponge but _finally_ I've finished it.
> 
> Upload schedule will be one chapter per week. I hope you stick around.
> 
> Thank you.


	2. Chapter 2

Second Year

Pranking is a delicate, meticulous and often underrated art form. It had come to Remus' attention fairly quickly that his new friends were particularly fond of the activity and were keen to cause as much havoc in the duration of their school career as they can.

Now in his second year, Remus is maintaining a carefully measured distance from any and all extracurricular activities as far as pranking is concerned, though Sirius is hard put at letting him off so easily.

After their initial introduction in the dormitory that first night at Hogwarts, it quickly became apparent that Remus and Sirius didn't like each other very much. Remus had befriended Peter faster than either Sirius or James; he liked how Peter's nervousness at being found in a school of new people seemed to cause his own to crumble away, instead arming Remus with a newfound bravery that he'd never possessed before. He found a kinship in Peter, the recognition of their shared timidity drawing them together like magnets. Remus felt to be Peter's protector of sorts and Peter in turn was grateful for it.

The same couldn't be said for Sirius. In Sirius, Remus thought he had discovered an arrogance that quashed any other quality lurking within him. If there were any redeeming characteristics about Sirius, Remus certainly hadn't been able to find them beneath that authoritative upturn of the nose which he so often deployed. Sirius dominated every matter, every situation had to be monopolised in his favour; the window must be open at night, he always got the best seat in the common room, no lesson was safe from his constant stream of wise-cracks that eventually had even the teachers fighting smiles - much to Remus' infuriation.

As far as Remus was concerned, Sirius was someone to avoid at all costs, whenever humanly possible. James suffered by extension, having already made Sirius a firm friend due to their shared proclivity for mischief. 

For his part, Sirius found Remus aloof to the point where he thought Remus might turn to ice from the chill he was permanently permeating. The boy never seemed to laugh, or talk, or anything Sirius would find remotely fun; he was always thumbing through a tattered book, one of muggle creation, Sirius noticed. He had even asked Remus about it, in those early days, demanded to know what could be so interesting in one single book that it should be read through until the pages half fell out. Jane Eyre, Remus had stated, with an air that those words alone explained everything. By an author called Charlotte Bronte, he added upon seeing Sirius' quizzical expression and matching it with one of his own, in disbelief that Sirius would be ignorant to the work. After hearing Remus' synopsis of the tale, Sirius thought it was all perfectly barbaric and he wasn't at all surprised that someone such as Remus could read a story so miserable and come out of the experience actually enjoying it.

It hadn't been until a few months into their first year that Remus had begun to warm to Sirius, and Sirius to Remus. There was awkwardness in Remus which Sirius carefully regarded over time; he saw it during his interactions with other students, with the teachers. It made Remus not only non-communicative with Sirius but everyone else as well. It dawned on Sirius that he'd misjudged Remus. He wasn't purposely trying to be closed off; he was shy. 

Remus noticed a steady decline in Sirius' bossiness too, finding that he was just as capable of charming his way into Remus’ good graces as he was at originally avoiding them. After that, each came to terms with the fact that they'd had a gross misconception of the other; Sirius was no more superior than Remus was remote. Soon after, James and Sirius welcomed Remus into their fold heartily, and Peter followed at Remus' unwavering insistence. James Potter proved to be loyal to a fault, so much so that Remus would kick himself that he hadn't given him the chance to know him sooner. 

"You know, Remus, if you would quit being so prim and put that excellent mind to better use, our pranks would go off without a hitch and you wouldn't have to worry about us getting found out all the time."

Sirius is sprawled across the floor, bare feet perilously close to the licking flames of the fire. He's started to grow his hair out and it curls around his ears, too short to look stylish but too long to be made tidy. Remus very much doubts that Sirius cares about appearing orderly and it grinds away at him a little, that easy dismissal of anything and everything that exudes from Sirius. It's as if he screams "So what? I don't care!" at all times.

"Am I supposed to be flattered by that? You need to try harder than that if you're trying to persuade me."

"Yes! You're wasting yourself on - what is that, anyway?"

"Oh, I don't know, it could be the homework that Slughorn set us yesterday." Remus offers contritely, dotting an 'I' more vigorously than he usually would. “You know, the reason why we're here? To get our education?"

Sirius pretends to faint in despair, "To get our...? Merlin's Beard. You're killing me, Remus. You're actually killing me."

"The only thing that's being killed are your future prospects."

"We're only in second year! It's not like we have to think about what jobs we want yet."

"We're three years away from O.W.L's, we need to start thinking about our options."

Sirius is aware that he's losing the battle and calls upon reinforcement. "James. James, are you hearing this? I can't bear it."

"Let Remus do his homework. You know he gets stressed if it's not completed the day we get it." James advises, drawing Sirius' attention back to their plan. It is to be their first major prank of the year; they'd quickly gained notoriety for being mischievous, the teachers now wary and watchful of them at all times. This, James had said, was to be what cemented them in Hogwarts history. 

If only they could iron out the kinks.

"It's no use!" Peter wails, collapsing in a fit of despair in the armchair. "We'll be caught. There's no way we can set off that many dungbombs by ourselves."

James peers over his glasses in disapproval, "That's not very encouraging of you, Pete."

"If only you had a way of knowing exactly where everyone is during the execution of a prank. Oh well, I suppose you better give the whole thing up as a lost cause and - "

"Remus, that's a great idea!" Sirius gasps, perking up.

Remus looks up from his parchment, frowning. "What is?"

"That's precisely what we need. Something to show us where everyone is."

Remus recognises the look on Sirius' face, the beginnings of a plan formulating. "Hold on, I was just joking! There's no way you could find something like that - "

"You're right. That's why we're going to make it."

"Sirius, do you even know how complex magic like that would be?!"

"It's a good job we have the finest mind in school to help us then, isn't it? If we put our heads together, I'm sure we'll crack it."

"I don't want any part in it!"

Soon after, they quickly abandon the plan for their greatest prank, instead turning their thoughts to something altogether more impressive. A map, Sirius suggests, that could account for every single person within school grounds. For all of his avoidance in his friend's delinquent affairs, Remus had been the one to sow the seeds of what would become the greatest tool in pranking his friends could ever need.

***

Sirius can't contain himself anymore. Perhaps the enigma finally became too much, when Remus bid them all goodnight last night and Sirius knew that he would be up before the sun broke the horizon - as he always is.

If James were here instead of the Great Hall an hour before breakfast in a fruitless bid to talk to Lily Evans as she dutifully tries to attend to final corrections on homework, he would stop Sirius. He would tell him what Remus does in his own time is none of Sirius' business, that Remus takes his showers at the crack of dawn when the rest of them are only just rousing themselves from sleep because he means for it to be that way. 

He'd tell him to be a decent friend and leave it well enough alone.

Peter isn't James though. Sirius is already tying the laces of his shoes when Peter begins to twitch beneath his sheets, a searching hand groping the bedside table for his alarm clock.

"Time already?"

"No. Go back to sleep, Pete."

"Where're you going?" he grumbles, blearily rubbing at the sleep in his eyes but he has delayed too long, his words are hitting the door as Sirius swings out of the dormitory.

Sirius jogs down the spiralling steps to the common room, his shoes slapping against the smooth stone. There's no one in the common room besides a first year student near the fireplace, who is desperately brandishing her wand at a quill on the table before her, silently mouthing a spell. 

"What are you trying to do?" Sirius asks, sparing a moment for his curiosity. 

"Trying to make this quill sustain itself with everlasting ink. My brother said that if I do everything he's told me just right, I can use it forever and it'll never run out. Besides, I'm getting tired of knocking the ink well over."

"I think your brother is pulling your leg if he gave you the spell himself."

The first year sighs and gazes wistfully at the quill, resignedly dropping her wand on her lap. "I thought it was too good to be true, my brother can't charm a rabbit out of a hat." 

"Maybe you should try transfiguring a biro into a quill instead, it won't be everlasting but it'll be better for you. It's probably above your abilities though, you're still turning beetles into buttons, I bet."

"I can do it!" the first year says heatedly. Her face wipes clean after a second. "What's a biro?"

"Muggles use them to write. They're like plastic tubes with ink inside, they're called ballpoint pens. My friend Remus told me about them, his mother is a muggle so he knows all about that stuff. He's always complaining about the impracticality of wizards and how we make life harder than it needs to be."

"Huh," she says, fixing her attention on the quill again. "I have a muggle born friend, I think I'll ask her about them, I just can't stand all the ink stains in my clothes anymore. Thanks!"

"No problem." Sirius says as he scrambles out of the portrait hole, heading in the direction of the boy's bathroom. 

The castle is quiet so early in the morning. He has to dive out of the way of Nearly Headless Nick when he passes him in the corridor and salutes Peeves, who sardonically grins to his fellow prankster as he scribbles a moustache onto the portrait of a squirming, disgruntled witch. 

It had been a hard won battle to gain Peeves' begrudging respect; the objective had taken no less than an entire third year class simultaneously erupting into uncontrolled laughter halfway through Charms - all identical to Peeves' signature cackle - and a month's worth of detention with Professor Flitwick on Sirius' side to achieve success. It's something Remus still strongly disapproves of although Sirius knows he'd never confess to it because having Peeves on side is far more rewarding than not.

Outside the bathroom door, Sirius can hear the noises of Remus innocently going about his morning. The mystery of why Remus has carefully maintained this daily ritual has long vexed Sirius. He'd noticed the unusual routine a month after knowing Remus, not yet friends but still drawn to the quiet, wide eyed boy. He couldn't help it; there was something about Remus even then that tugged at his attention, he'd taken great interest in the peculiarities of this strange boy. Remus rose before the sun, he seemed to disappear every month with a variation of the same excuse upon his return, he was always getting ill. Sirius had found an extraordinarily irksome puzzle in Remus and he wanted to solve it.

Sirius hesitates at the open door just as the stream of water cuts off; he begins to think that this isn't such a good idea after all - he has no time though. Remus steps out of the stall, a towel firmly wrapped around his waist, shaking the water from his hair. It takes him a long moment to notice Sirius stood in the doorway, hands braced on either side of the frame. When Remus' eyes fall on him, he freezes, the bottle of shampoo bouncing off the tiled floor.

As a rule, Sirius never wears socks or shoes in Gryffindor Tower; Remus often says that Sirius has feet worthy of his name and upon discovering his friend's habit, has tried on numerous occasions to force socks onto him, or at the very least a good pair of sturdy slippers. Remus himself is severely self-disciplined with his state of dress, not even loosening his tie at the end of the day; he has always dressed fastidiously, from head to toe even in summer and now, here was Sirius, bursting in on him at his most vulnerable! What had Sirius been thinking coming here!

Remus watches Sirius' face turns grey, sees the way his eyes fall on Remus' chest, his arms, his legs. The steady dripping of water from a leaky faucet sounds doubly loud in his ears.

"...Remus?" Sirius says thinly.

The sound of his name assaults him from all directions, reverberating from wall to wall. It triggers him into action, his limbs stiffly cooperating with his brain as it screams for them to move. Remus throws his shirt on, heedless of the beads of water still dripping from him, the material turning translucent from where it meets his skin. With clumsy fingers, he fumbles with the buttons, doing the shirt up all wrong.

"Remus," Sirius tries again, stepping into the room, moving closer to Remus.

"It's nothing, Sirius!" he insists, his voice high, pulling his school robes off a peg. "I got into an accident as a child. That's all it is!"

"Why have you never mentioned this before? Is this - is _this_ why you never change in front of us - why you -"

"I told you, it's nothing!"

Sirius can't stop staring. He's seen the few scars which Remus cannot conceal, the ones which trail across the back of his hand, the one on his chin. Remus has always disregarded the questions around them, feigning nonchalance to the point of boredom. Sirius hadn't given much consideration to the idea of there being more, for the breathtaking magnitude of them all over Remus' body. He is only beginning to realise the extent to which Remus has been at pains to cover the majority of them up. 

"Why were you hiding this from us?"

"I - it - it doesn't define me," Remus answers at length, breathing hard through his nose. "And I -"

Remus turns away, small and pale in the white bathroom, his wet hair dark and striking against his skin. Sirius, who on any other occasion might have laughed at his friend dressed down in only a towel and a crooked shirt, is silent. Despite Remus' efforts, he can still see the scars through the damp material and it sobers him.

" - I couldn't bear to see you look at me like that." Remus finishes quietly. "My parents look at me like that. I thought that if you never saw them, that I could pretend they weren't - "

Sirius casts his eyes downward, ashamed, overridden with guilt. 

"I had no idea."

"That was sort of the point."

"Merlin, I'm sorry. I didn't - "

"Let's just forget about it."

"You still love me, right?" Sirius asks, only half joking, reaching out to hold firm on Remus' arm. His thumb presses into one of the scars there; slightly raised, fairly new. Sirius quashes the questions that start to form in his mind.

Remus shakes his head but offers a small smile, "Just get out of here so I can get changed."

Remus had asked to forget about it and yet, how could Sirius do such a thing? He couldn't get those scars out his head - those terrible, angry scars. How had Remus gotten them? What sort of accident could cause them? He'd never seen the like before, not even in the worst of the books in the Black library at Grimmauld Place, the dark ones that he felt himself most drawn to. Ones with unpleasant illustrations and detailed descriptions, of faces sprouting fangs and skin shedding to make way for fur.

Sirius feels as if he is six years old again, pouring over those grizzly books by lantern light. He thinks of Remus' constant disappearances every month, the countless scars he tries to hide that are slashed all over his body, his lacklustre excuses for them. His sickly appearance whenever the moon reaches its peak, the way he seems to shrink into himself as if scared he could crack open at any moment, the permanent fixture of dark circles and a hollowness to his half lidded eyes.

He feels the drop in his stomach.

Everything makes sense all of sudden. How had he not put all the clues together?

"Remus is a werewolf." he mutters to himself.

James happens to be nearby during the revelation, although too busy whooping over his victory in chess to hear Sirius properly.

"What was that?"

"I said, Remus is a werewolf." Sirius says again, clearer, enunciating every word with plain certainty. His pulse is racing and he can't sit still. He wants to find Remus, he has to get James to understand. The common room around him is too loud, too obtrusive, too slow.

"Come off it, where would you get an idea like that? Don't you think he would have told us if he were?"

Sirius shakes his head impatiently, "James, if you were a werewolf, would you go around announcing it, even to your friends?"

James pushes back on his chair, tilting precariously, "Fine, I'll jump the toadstool for your sake. How do you figure he's a werewolf?"

"Use your head, James, I know there's a brain rattling about in there somewhere. Where do you think he goes every month?"

"To see his sick aunt, he's told us this - "

"Every full moon, James. I've checked and as far as I can remember, each date is a full moon! You don't have to go far to read up on lycanthropy, go to the library and check off every symptom that you see in Remus and tell me it doesn't make sense to you!"

"I haven't seen Remus eat a turnip either!" Peter cries, eyes bulging slightly from his head.

"What's that got to do with anything?" James asks, bewildered.

"Werewolves are allergic to root vegetables, my cousin told me." 

"That - " Sirius begins, his puzzled expression clearing to give way to one of mirth. "- is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard, Pete."

James shushes Peter before he can launch into protestations, struggling to wrap his head around the information.

"What do you think we should do? Remus obviously doesn't want us to know - if he even is a werewolf. You said it yourself, he's been hiding it for a reason. Werewolves are - well, they're considered beasts."

"Does Remus seem like a beast to you?!" Sirius snaps, jumping to his feet.

"I never said that he was." James says sharply. "Sit down, Sirius. People are starting to stare."

Sirius drops back down onto his seat, chewing on his lip. "I - I think he's just scared."

"Can't say I blame him. We should just pretend we don't know, it's what he'd want." James proposes, collecting the broken chess pieces and repairing them.

"And let him carry on thinking he should hide it from us? This isn't something embarrassing, he's not still using training wheels on a broomstick, James. This is him - it's Remus." 

"What do you suggest? We sit him down and say _'by the way, we know you turn into a great, big, hairy animal.'_ or maybe we could play an elaborate game of charades to break it to him gently?"

"Don't be dense, James. It has to be handled with tact. I'm sure between the three of us, we can let him know that _we_ know in a sensitive, pragmatic way and assure Remus that we don't care."

***

It turned out that the three of them could not come up with a sensitive, pragmatic opening to the conversation; they were getting ready for bed as usual, Remus already buttoned up into his flannel pyjamas and ensconced safely in his bed when Sirius just blurts it out. 

"Is there something you want to tell us, Remus?"

James rounds on Sirius, his eyes practically popping out of his skull. Remus is still oblivious to the purpose of the question and scratches his temple in contemplation.

"Uh - McGonagall's essay isn't due in until Thursday now?"

"We're not talking about school work." Sirius says gently, gentler than he's ever been, so gentle it stops Remus' heart. Behind him, James is clutching at his hair as if he's watching a disaster play out before him and he's powerless to stop it. "This is about you."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Remus breathes, standing abruptly, an inch of bony ankle showing beneath his pyjama bottoms. "I don't know what you think you know but you're wrong."

The others stand too, far enough away to keep Remus at ease but able to keep him from leaving if need be. James takes a tentative step forward, motioning for Sirius and Peter to keep back, to give Remus room.

"It's okay, Remus. We know. It's okay. Sirius figured it out."

"We know you're not going to see any sick aunts, let's put it that way - "

" _Sirius!_ "

Remus eyes the door but it's too far away. Peter shuffles with a lack of subtlety to block his path, just in case. "I don't - you have no idea what - it's not - "

"Don't," James says, glancing over his shoulder at Sirius who is hitched up against a bedpost. "Don't be worried - "

Remus draws in a shaky breath, bordering on manic, "I should be saying that to you. If I explain everything to Dumbledore, he might move me to another dormitory so you don't have to worry about me being a - being around. I can leave, I'll go."

"We're not going anywhere and neither are you." James insists firmly.

"You have no idea - you have no idea how dangerous I am. People like you - normal people - you hate me."

"Very keen on telling us how we should feel, aren't you?" Sirius says coolly, eyes blazing.

Remus doesn't want to look at this fire and ice boy but he forces himself to do it anyway; Sirius refuses to balk, levelling his eyes at Remus in a dare. Remus, unbelievably, doesn't shrink from it.

"Everything has changed now - "

Sirius pushes past James, yanking his arm out of his grasping reach. "Knock it off, Remus. You're a werewolf - " Remus flinches at the abruptness of Sirius' words. " - but you're still the nagging, chocolate-consuming, book-hugging dork we all love. The only thing that's changed here is that you don't have to hide away from us now."

"I really don't - "

"Come on, Remus. It's as simple as that. This doesn't have to be hard."

"I know, still is though." Remus whispers, shutting his eyes. "This conversation shouldn't even be happening in the first place."

"Um, Remus?"

"Yes, Peter?"

"Can you eat turnips?"

Remus opens his eyes and glances in confusion at James and Sirius, who are barely able to keep upright as they shake uncontrollably with silent laughter.

"...turnips?" repeats Remus, saying the word like it's new to him.

"You know, root vegetables. Can you eat them or has being a werewolf made you allergic?"

Upon hearing these words, Sirius lets out a particularly unattractive snort, rendering James into a fresh wave of wheezing.

"Well, " Remus says slowly, lowering his voice as if in confidance. "I can but only when the sun is at its highest point in the sky."

"Really?" Peter whispers back, eyes wide.

"No, Peter." Remus says calmly, a hint of disapproval at his friend's gullibility. "I can assure you that I am not denied the consumption of root vegetables. Be at ease in that knowledge, you don't have to fear me breaking out into hives if I happen across a carrot at the dinner table."

After the discovery of Remus' condition, they begin with tentative steps. They know to go on with Remus as they'd started with him but the subject of lycanthropy is tricky to navigate. They aren't sure of how Remus will react to them talking about it and Remus is too preoccupied with trying not to frighten his friends away.

Sirius wants to reach out and meet Remus in the middle but Remus refuses to budge in his silence on the topic; they find themselves at an impasse that neither are happy with, until the moon gives them no choice.

"You're staring."

Sirius' head whips around to James sprawled out on the floor in front of the fire; he doesn't bother to look up from flicking through his Quidditch magazine, lingering at a moving illustration of a flying tactic. Sirius' face heats up, flushed red. He hadn't realised he was being so obvious.

"I'm not staring!"

"You are. In fact, you're gawping." James says conversationally, his voice low. He idly turns a page with his thumb. "Go over to him."

"Merlin, James - keep your voice down!"

At this point, James glances up, frowning grimly at the subject of Sirius' agitation; Remus. "He's preoccupied, Sirius. He's not listening to us."

The both stare across the common room at Remus, huddled into an armchair, his complexion sickly pale. The full moon is that very night. Sirius could kick himself for not figuring everything out sooner, he might have spared Remus some suffering, might have been able to distract him if he'd known he needed it.

"I just wish there was something we could do." Sirius sighs. "I wish he'd at least tell us about it."

"We'll figure something out." James says without a second thought. They hadn't even needed to discuss it, the whole affair was fairly straightforward; they would find a way to help Remus. It was never a question of if, but when.

"You can't cure lycanthropy, James."

"Who said anything about curing Remus?"

Sirius sits up a little straighter. "That sounds a lot like you've already got a plan in mind."

"I have the impression of a plan, nothing more. I read that werewolves are only a danger to humans." James explains calmly, pushing his glasses up. "There's a theory that the werewolf bite has no effect on animals."

"A theory? So it's untested? What are you suggesting?"

James nods. "From what I've managed to find, afraid so. We'll talk about this another day but right now, go to Remus. He needs you."

Sirius wants to ask why James thinks he can do a better job of comforting Remus than either himself or Peter but he doesn't, instead walking with unsteady legs to where Remus is ripping up a discarded essay page. He doesn't notice Sirius standing over him.

"Remus."

Remus looks up, pausing in his methodical tearing of the parchment. The confetti in his shaking hands is perfect squares and he clings to them as tightly as he can, pinching the small stack between his thumb and forefinger. Sirius drops down to his knees at Remus' feet and slides cold fingers onto Remus' wrist, applying the gentlest pressure, feeling the frantic pulse of blood at his fingertips.

"What chocolate?"

James watches the exchange from his spot on the rug, subtly shaking his head at Peter, who is about to open his mouth to say something and unwittingly encroach upon Sirius' plan.

"What...what chocolate?" Remus stammers, momentarily forgetting the threat of the moon.

"What's your favourite sort of chocolate right now?"

It's a strange question for Remus to hear, so out of the blue. He is acutely aware of Sirius' hold on his wrist, of the iciness cooling his fevered skin. He wonders briefly if by comparison, his own skin is burning through Sirius' hand.

"Why do you want to -"

"Just answer the question, Remus."

"...milk chocolate." Remus begins hesitantly, glancing uncertainly at James on the floor, who offers him a small, encouraging smile. It spurs him on, instils a confidence in Remus so that his words come out a little quicker, a little more enthusiastic. He's so caught up in the turn of conversation that the parchment pieces tumble from his grip, scattering across the carpet at his feet. 

"The kind with the strawberry cream inside - cream that's so light it's almost a mousse, with real tiny pieces of strawberry whipped in."

Sirius nods, giving his approval. "Good choice. I could tell you were moving on from that dark chocolate pistachio number."

When Remus creeps back into the dormitory next morning - facing the strong disapproval of Madam Pomfrey after she'd given him a thorough once over - amidst a symphony of snores, he is mindful to hop over the particular creaky floorboard to avoid waking his friends. In a way, he is grateful that they discovered him; he felt like he was living a double life, so petrified and twitchy that they would learn his secret and shut him out. Now that they know, it's as if he can breathe a little easier. He no longer has to hide and that thought buoys him. They know him and they accept him. The worst part - his biggest fear - is over.

He tiptoes to his bed and as stiff and aching and in desperate need of rest as he is, he almost misses the rectangular package, half collapses on it before he realises something is amiss.

Yanking it out from under him, he sees that the package is the length of his hand, wrapped up in crinkled brown paper, a good weight to it. It feels oddly familiar and comforting and he tests it out, weighing it up in his palm before ripping the outer-wrapper off. 

A chocolate bar slides out of his grasp and onto the mattress, a glint of silver and purple. Milk chocolate. Strawberry filled. Slightly squashed now but fine to eat.

When his eyes land on Sirius' still figure, buried beneath the sheets of his bed, he suddenly notices that one set of snores is unmistakably absent.

"Thank you." he says quietly, not expecting an answer back. 

A long minute passes.

"Anytime."


	3. Chapter 3

Summer Between Fourth & Fifth Year

Grimmauld Place is in uproar.

Sirius jumps down the stairs, taking the steps three at a time, putting distance between him and the screeching of his mother's voice as she fires curses at his bedroom wall, possibly destroying everything besides the object of her rage. It was probably a wise decision to grab his bag on the way out.

"MUGGLE FILTH! HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU!"

In hindsight, Sirius supposes those pictures of bikini-clad women torn from muggle magazines might not have been his best idea. No, his best idea to date was using a Permanent Sticking Charm to bind them forever to his wall in full display the moment anyone entered his room. His mother, as it turned out, was less enthusiastic about the whole thing.

He passes Regulus on the second floor landing, who is starting to bear more resemblance to their hateful cousin Bellatrix than Sirius of late, all heavy-lidded and high cheekboned - except for his bright hair, sleek and perfectly coiffed, his sole shared feature with their mother. Everything else is taken from their father, Orion Black. Beauty to the point of severity, more angles than curves about his face. Sirius would probably wonder how he could possibly come from the same genetic pool if it weren't for his own hair, dark and curly with a mind all of its own. A marked Black inheritence.

Regulus turns his nose up, merely playing at superiority for now but it's hard to take him seriously, like he's trying to wear shoes that refuse to fit. "What have you done now?"

"Nothing much, just fulfilling my status as least favourite son."

"You should stop testing her patience, it won't hold out much longer." Regulus advises haughtily, brushing a speck of dust from his immaculate robes, a stark contrast to Sirius dressed down in muggle clothing - all secondhand, found in charity shops. Sirius is particularly proud of his leather jacket, almost two sizes too big but in near perfect condition.

"Merlin, Reg. It's almost as if you care." Sirius snarls, pushing past his brother to reach the next flight of stairs.

"I mean it, you know." Regulus calls after him, voice softening. "You've pushed her too far. Remember last time? Father won't stop her again."

Sirius stops, gripping the banister, remembering. It had been dinner; they were all seated around the table in their opulent dining room that was beginning to go to seed - minus his father, of course, who was away at a grand evening hosted for strictly pure blood wizards and witches. It had been silly, really, an ill-advised comment which had made his mother snap. Sirius should have known to keep quiet; his mother's temper can flare up like the crack of a whip, sudden and blinding. 

He'd inquired after their father, more than hinted at his specific brand of company. The continued rise in power of a certain dark wizard is a topic his family never engages in, though it was silently acknowledged within their home that they abundantly support his ideologies on cleansing the wizarding world of anyone with less than an impeccably magic bloodline. The Black's are clever though, they keep their opinions to themselves; as a child, the golden rule had always been for Sirius to keep his mouth firmly shut.

Walburga Black often withstands Sirius' childish jibes, his petty disobedience and lack of respect for his ancestry. She is proud to a fault, refusing to bow to the impulsive insults of her brat of a son, more times than not treating him as if he were lesser than their house-elf. In her opinion, he wasn't worth the place in her home which he was graciously afforded. 

That time was different. That time, all he had to do was speak the name of the dark wizard.

"I see dad isn't gracing us with his presence. I suppose we're not as grand as Lord Voldemort - "

The slap against his cheek had come hard enough to leave a welt, unwanted tears springing to his eyes from the keen sting.

"Don't you dare," she spat, eyes bulging from her skull. "Don't you dare speak the name, you ungrateful, spiteful little boy."

Regulus had looked as if he wanted nothing more than to remove from the dining room but his sense of self-preservation was much stronger than allowing himself to follow through with such foolish notions. Sirius was without speech; their mother could be capricious but she had never before raised a hand to him. She preferred to fight with words of her own, at times of her own choosing, twice as mean as anything Sirius could say; she sent them in letters to Hogwarts, spoke them loud to her husband so that Sirius may overhear. She had never let her anger manifest physically.

She'd threatened to kick him out then and there. Sirius had promptly deposited himself in his own room until her screams had finally died away at the arrival of their father, who ordered that Sirius was to stay - not through the kindness of his own heart, but for the sake of maintaining their public image.

Sirius turns to look at his brother now, long stopped wishing him as an ally inside this volatile tomb of a home. 

"I don't want him to stop her." he says shortly, leaving Regulus and their mother's wailing behind.

He hates everything inside this house, hates how it reeks of dark magic. He passes under the mounted house elf heads, gruesome shadows cast over their faces from the dim gas lamps that are always lit within the black confines of Grimmauld Place. When Sirius steps outside into the late summer evening, he still can't shake the feeling, suffocating through the thin film of it clinging to his skin.

Despite the hour, the sun is yet to set, the heat of the city breaking Sirius out into a sweat inside his leather jacket. He crosses the street, passing through the park opposite their house, not sure exactly where to go but knowing it didn't matter as long as he was as far away from the house and his family as possible. Everything here sticks to him like chewed gum, picking up bad memory after bad memory like flies no matter how hard he tries to escape.

Sirius ducks his head as he walks by a cluster of muggle teenagers older than him, swilling beer from a couple of shared cans between them, the bushes they're loitering around stinking of urine and sweat. He sneaks a glance at them through his hair, taking in the cropped shirts and spiked collars, the red smirks of their pierced lips. Maybe he should try that one day, another way to make his mother balk at the sight of him. The area has been in decline for years now, no longer the upstanding suburban district it once was. Sirius wants to laugh; the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, reduced to living amongst muggle swill in the twilight of their glory days.

He slips through the park gates, paying no attention to his direction, stepping out into the road with thoughts of shaved sides and buckled boots on his mind; a car blares its horn, rumbles by, nearly squashing Sirius who has to dive out of the way, the muggle still shouting obscenities through an open window even as they trundle away down the road.

It gives him an idea.

His uncle Alphard had once taken him and Regulus on a trip to the seaside, relying upon a unique wizarding bus to get them all there in one piece. Sirius remembers standing at the edge of the kerb with his uncle and brother, staring up at Alphard in confusion as he flung out his wand arm, flagging down a magnificent triple decker bus from thin air. It had all felt very exciting at the time and standing here in a deserted street, Sirius could think of no reason why he shouldn't make use of it again. He even finally has a destination in mind, somewhere far from the city.

With one last glance about him, Sirius holds his wand arm out into the road, already braced for the sudden appearance of the purple bus as it screeches to a halt before him.

A wizard dressed head to toe in matching purple steps out onto the kerb, bowing neatly before launching into a well-rehearsed introduction, spoken so often that he barely pauses for breath. 

"Hello, and welcome to the Knight Bus. My name is Art and I'll be your conductor this evening. Please consult our price list for travel options - " he gestures to a small, faded sign plastered onto the window closest to him. " - but I can tell you that for a mere two Knuts added to our overnight package, you may purchase a biscuit of your choosing to go along with your preferred hot beverage. Your conductor will inform you of our very excellent biscuit selection."

Sirius consults his bag, comes up with just enough change, "Uh, just the standard fee, please."

"As you wish, sir. All aboard, one at a time!"

Sirius glances around, looks back to the conductor. "But it's just me here..."

Art's thick moustache twitches, then he curtly nods. "Right you are. Please, after you. Do you have any luggage with you today, sir?"

"Only what I'm carrying." Sirius hitches up his backpack pointedly, stepping past Art and onto the bus. 

The driver, a man with greying hair and magnified eyes to twice the size because of his thick glasses, dips his head in greeting, yanking on a lever so that the doors slam shut behind them. They take off, Sirius almost toppling over from the momentum.

"May I ask where it is you're travelling to this evening?" Art asks, reacting with a calmness that suggests they aren't hurtling at the speed of light through the streets of London.

Sirius gives him the address and the wizard nods sagely, handing Sirius a ticket as they walk (stumble, in Sirius' case) to the end of the bus, dodging sliding seats which transform into rickety beds of their own accord. An elderly wizard sails by on a bed of his own, clutching the sides for dear life, his hat rolling away to the front of the bus.

"It's very good, isn't it? This is the start of the night shift, nine o' clock every night in the summer. It’s tuned into the magic of the bus. Back when it was introduced, they had to go about transfiguring the chairs one by one," Art announces proudly, mistaking the growing look of concern on Sirius' face for wonder. They stop at a particularly garish looking bed; burnt orange and mustard yellow stripes, a fringed cushion in the shape of a sunflower. 

"Here you are. We'll be passing through a couple places before we head to Wales. I'll give you a shout when we arrive."

"Thanks," Sirius says, eyeing the bed with mistrust.

"I should warn you," Art begins, dropping his voice just as they veer around a corner, neatly sidestepping a trunk crashing his way. "Ernie is still getting used to the pedals; he's a bit heavy on the accelerator if you ask me. New, see? I'm hoping with time, he'll improve."

"No kidding." Sirius says, sharing a look with the elderly wizard, whose bed has drifted back to collide into the vacant one beside it, jostling through the rest of the bedframes and sparking off a clatter of deafening noise. Somewhere above, an owl shrieks in dismay.

“So where is it you’re visiting today, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oh, a friend. I guess it’s a surprise.”

“Very good, sir. We’ll be there in a tick - very fast, this bus. Cutting through the Midlands as we speak.”

Sirius glances out of the window, unable to keep his eyes trained on any one object; it’s a motion of colour smeared against the glass like paint, soft grey and brown giving way to the patchwork yellow and green of fields. Sirius wonders if his mother has noticed his absence yet, if she even cares. He hopes his room isn’t in too much of a state when he returns.

“Here, have a biscuit.” Art's voice brings Sirius back to the present. Sirius looks up to see the conductor magicking a tin onto the mattress beside Sirius’ leg.

“I haven’t paid for one though.”

Art prods the tin closer, “Chocolate chip. Made them myself.” He adds proudly.

“Thanks.”

The bus slams to a halt just as Sirius grabs for a biscuit; he has to clutch the tin with both hands to keep it from careening across the length of the bus.

"Ah, Mrs. Boggs. If you just excuse me, sir." Art says, neatly dismissing himself to greet a rather haphazard looking witch, who climbs aboard with a croaking wicker basket and ten different shawls wrapped around her shoulders and arms.

Sirius is grateful for the interruption. They'd broken up for the summer only two weeks earlier and he suddenly feels filled with doubt whether Remus would be happy to see him or not. The decision to come was impulsive, as are all of Sirius' plans, but Remus is so strictly bound up in schedules and bullet points and contingencies that Sirius thinks that he should probably have thought this one thing through, just this once.

"Wales, young sir!" 

Art's unfortunately timed call is loud enough to turn several heads in Sirius' direction. Sirius has no choice but to unsteadily weave around the labyrinth of beds, passing Mrs. Boggs who has taken up the perhaps ill-chosen activity of knitting to pass her time on the bus. Art is waiting for Sirius at the doors, taking the biscuit tin from Sirius' hands when he clambers from the bus.

"Thank you for riding with the Knight Bus this evening, we hope you have a pleasant visit and look forward to seeing you again soon."

"Uh, sure. Thanks - and thanks for the biscuit."

"Ready when you are, Ernie." Art says proudly, banging the door separating the driver and bestowing a final bow on Sirius.

"Never again." Sirius mutters to himself, watching as the Knight Bus speeds down the country road and out of view, feeling a pang of sympathy for everyone left on board.

Now that he is here, he’d never really imagined the sort of place Remus would come from. It makes sense to him seeing it now; the houses in his village are few and far between, clusters of trees giving way to a smoking chimney here, a flaking red door there. Across the dirt road, a pheasant disappears beneath the brambles, scattering blackberries in its wake. It’s a world away from Sirius’ concrete grey home.

Sirius lets himself through the wooden gate at the end of the garden path peppered with overgrown weeds, double checking the brass house number nailed onto the post. All at once he feels out of place, stinking of the city with sweat pouring down his back, his leather jacket heavy on his shoulders. Even as his knuckles rap against the front door, he’s wondering whether he should make a run for it and just wander the litter strewn alleys in London instead of burdening his friend.

When the door swings open, Remus is stunned into silence at the sight of a bedraggled Sirius Black on his front step, carrying nothing more than a dragonhide backpack and a sheepish grin, framed by the pink and orange sky behind him.

"I was in the neighbourhood, thought I'd drop by." Sirius offers weakly.

Remus has to reach out and take hold of Sirius' arm to believe he is really there. Sirius is concerned to see he looks wan, bearing a few new scratches he hasn't seen before on his face. He shouldn't have come.

Remus finally finds his voice, "You - you live in London - how did you - how did you get here?!"

"Caught the bus like any self-respecting muggle would, how else Remus?"

"...the bus!?"

"Okay, so it was one of our buses - The Knight Bus - very handy for a distressed and stranded witch or wizard."

Remus goes from confused to concerned in record time. "Distressed? Sirius, are you in trouble?"

Sirius thinks of his mother, foaming at the mouth, tearing his room apart. He thinks of his brother, old enough to understand the rules he needs to play by but too young to want to defy them. Thinks of his father who would rather chase opportunities and status than be with his family - not that he would be a model father if he did stay, at any rate.

"Me? Trouble? Forget about it." Sirius says, brushing it off. "You know, I shouldn't have come - I should have sent an owl or something, I didn't even think -"

"Don't say that, I'll tell my parents you're staying the night." Remus insists firmly, stepping forward as if scared Sirius is about to take off. "I can't believe you're here."

"I'll be gone first thing in the morning, I promise."

"Don't be ridiculous, Sirius."

Sirius smiles, "I'll be gone in the morning." he repeats, allowing Remus to take the bag from his shoulders and usher him inside.

Remus leads him through the narrow hallway, wallpapered in brown floral print and littered with photographs of Remus, and into the living room boasting the same colour scheme. Sirius smooths down his hair, conscious of his ragged appearance as Remus' parents look up at their entrance.

"Mum? Dad? This is Sirius - "

"Remus, you didn't tell us we were expecting anyone!" his mother chides, moving to stand up from the settee.

Sirius feels as if he's crashed into the Lupin's quaint lives with about as much consideration as a niffler. "It was my fault, Mrs. Lupin. I showed up without telling Remus first, it was incredibly rude of me."

"Oh, nonsense! It's a pleasure to finally be meeting you," Mrs. Lupin tells him, warmly taking him by the hand. Beside her, Remus slouches awkward and gangling, towering over her by a head. "He talks of nothing but you boys, especially you."

" _Mum!_ "

Sirius takes note of the faint blush running along Remus' cheeks. "He does?"

"Of course, dear!" she exclaims, pressing a light touch to Sirius' face. Sirius is taken aback by the affectionate gesture, slightly embarrassed at his sudden stillness. "I can't tell you how happy I am that he has such nice friends who will look out for him."

"I should tell you that Remus is the one that looks after us. We'd be lost without him."

"So you're Sirius Black, eh?" Mr. Lupin says finally, coming to stand beside his wife. He appraises Sirius, not unkindly, and offers him his hand. "Good to meet you."

"Thank you, sir."

"Oh, call me Lyall. Sir makes me feel old."

"Can he stay the night?" Remus asks with the desperate edge of someone expecting the worst outcome.

Remus' parents look at each other in surprise, as if Remus has never so much as requested a thing in his life. His mother is the first to recover.

"You're still delicate, darling, you're still recovering from when you were ill."

Sirius averts his gaze. They can't know that he knows all about Remus' condition but all the same, it's as if he's encroaching on a personal moment between family. He can sense the nerves bouncing around between Remus' parents, and Remus must too because he's already moving onto the next plea.

"I feel fine, mum. Please? Just this once?"

Lyall takes his wife by the elbow and murmurs under his breath, "Hope, he's fine. Let him have his friend stay."

Mrs. Lupin softens, tucking a strand of hair - exactly the same shade as Remus' - behind her ear. "Oh - alright. Take it easy though, okay? You'll make sure he doesn't over-exert himself, won't you, dear?" she says to Sirius, who nods seriously and assures her that he'll do his best.

"Thank you, mum." Remus says, sparing a moment to press a kiss to her cheek. "Come on, Sirius. This way - "

He takes Sirius through to the kitchen, quietly snapping the door shut behind him and letting out a long breath.

"I can't believe they agreed. This is unprecedented."

"Never had any friend around before?"

"Never had any to ask in the first place."

Sirius doesn't pity him, as Remus expects. He only nods in agreement, fiddling with a teaspoon abandoned on the table. "Same."

"Okay."

Sirius' head shoots up, eyebrows drawn together. "Okay, what?"

"Okay, I'm going to make hot chocolate and I'm going to show you something. If you look in that cupboard across from you, you'll find a blanket. Can you take it out, please?"

After the aforementioned blanket has been discovered and installed temporarily on the back of a chair, Remus ushers Sirius into one of his own as he busies himself with making the hot chocolate. They chat idly as he buzzes around the kitchen, pulling open cupboards and dumping an entire bottle of milk into a saucepan; he uses real chocolate in it, a muggle brand Sirius has never heard of in his life, gently melting it in the warmed milk on the hob.

"Can you believe that stunt James pulled with Lily Evans at the end of term?"

"Oh lord, don't remind me. I think I'm still suffering from the secondhand embarrassment. Poor James."

"Poor James? I don't know who came out of it worse: him or Evans."

"Well, Lily never asked to be the guest of honour in that spectacle. What was James thinking, trying to do that with a broom?"

Sirius' eyelids begin to droop, not out of boredom but of being so blissfully at peace listening to Remus stir up the batch of hot chocolate and quietly fret over whether to put cinnamon in or not. His whole body sags, as if he hadn't even realised how tense he's been until he found himself here, with Remus.

"Right," Remus says, carefully pouring the hot chocolate into a thermos. "That's that. Come on - bring your jacket, it's a little chilly out now the sun has gone down."

They step outside, the blanket and thermos under each of Remus' arms, pockets of light from the house's windows shining against the dew drops on the grass, a snail leaving behind a glistening trail before crossing into the darkness. The heat of London is a distant memory here; Sirius is grateful for his jacket, that Remus thought to bring along provisions.

"So where are we going?" Sirius asks, following Remus down a stone path at the back of his house. "And what in the name of Merlin is this thing?"

"That's a torch, Sirius. It runs on batteries, it'll give us light so we don't trip and break our necks." Remus says, resisting the urge to elbow Sirius when he violently shakes the torch, trying to get it to work. "And not far, there's a little hill at the bottom of our garden path. I'm not exaggerating when I say little. I imagine it's just about good enough for a child to go down on a sleigh."

Sirius stops his inspection of the torch and looks across with a wicked grin, "Really, a sleigh? Is this speaking from experience?"

"I haven't lived here long, Sirius. We - we move around a lot. My mum is happy to be back in Wales though, she feels like she's home again. It's been years since we were here..."

"No, allow me that mental image. You careening down this tiny slope, wrapped up in about a hundred jumpers."

"At least I know how to use a torch..." Remus mutters, demonstrating that fact by reaching over and clicking it on.

"Why faff around with a - torch, did you say? - when we have Lumos?"

"You know we're not allowed to do magic outside of school." Remus says coolly. "And aren't you a bit too posh to be saying words like faff? It sounds unnatural coming out of your mouth."

Sirius rolls his eyes in despair, only just restraining himself from saying anything besides, "You're killing me, Remus."

"My sole reason for existing is to thwart your rebellious ways. Here we are - "

The hill is exactly as Remus described; as a five year old, it would certainly seem substantial enough for a small thrill on a sleigh but as fourteen going on fifteen, it's just barely a hump at the edge of the garden.

"Hold this, please." Remus says, handing Sirius the hot chocolate so he can spread the blanket over the grass. "The man who lived here before us was a muggle. His wife had passed away a year before he put it up for sale -"

"Please don't tell me this hump in the ground is where he buried her body."

"Sirius, try to be respectful." Remus clucks, sitting back on the blanket. "Sorry this blanket isn't big enough, I'm not used to company out here. We could probably both fit if - "

Sirius automatically drops down onto the ground, winking at Remus. "It's fine, I'm happy to sit on the grass. So what were you saying about the man who lived here before?"

"He told me about this spot. He said it was the best place in the village to stargaze; he used to come out here whenever the weather allowed. I guess it became too painful for him to stay."

"So we're stargazing?! Remus, I never knew you had it in you -"

"Oh, just shut up and look up." Remus mutters, pulling his knees up to his chin, tipping his head back.

Sirius doesn't, not right away. He sneaks looks at Remus from the corner of his eye, following the line of his mousy hair, along the smooth forehead, the curve of his nose and lips against the backdrop of the dark bushes closing them into their own little nook. Even though he can still see the windows shining just down the path, it feels like they're the only two people left on the planet. He doesn't realise he's sighed until Remus speaks up, mistaking the sound for something else entirely.

"It's incredible, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Sirius breathes, glancing up to marvel at the night sky twinkling above them, words turning to fog in the cold air. "You can't see much in the city, all that muggle pollution. This is incredible..."

Remus nearly tells Sirius that if he ever bothered to look out of that window by his bed at Hogwarts, he'd see a much more impressive view. Instead, he pulls the sleeves of his jumper down over his knuckles. "I come out here sometimes, just to sit and..."

"Sit and what?"

"It's a little silly." Remus confesses, busying himself by pouring steaming hot chocolate from the thermos. 

"Remus, I'm already aware of your penchant for hideous jumpers. I think we're beyond this."

"Fine. I sit out here so I can be less afraid of the night. If something can be so beautiful, how can I possibly be scared of it?"

"I'm named for a star, you know."

"A star?" Remus snorts - mostly in relief. He's glad that Sirius hasn't laughed at the admittance but he's doubly grateful he isn't coddling him because of it.

"No disrespect to your own excellent parents but are you really in a position to be mocking me?"

Remus tips the plastic cup in Sirius' direction, "Point taken. So where about is this namesake of yours located?"

"You should brush up on your astronomy, Remus." Sirius chastises, shuffling across the damp grass so that he's shoulder to shoulder with his friend. "Sirius is the brightest star in the sky - "

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Shush, I'm teaching you something." Sirius says. He points up, tracing an invisible line with his finger across the dark canvass above them. "You see the belt of Orion? My charming father is named after that. Okay, right there? Follow that star on the left, down those two and there - just to the left of that. See?"

"Yes." Remus' mouth is dry. He passes the hot chocolate to Sirius. 

Sirius shifts closer, the curls of his hair tickling Remus' cheek, "Is it, or is it not, the brightest?"

"I suppose so."

"You _suppose_? Remus, are you even looking at the right star?"

"Of course I am." Remus turns towards Sirius. "I bet you do this with all your dates, huh?"

He hadn't meant to say it, not like that. It was supposed to be a joke but instead, it falls a little too desperate from Remus' lips, sounding far too curious.

"Uh - no, actually." Sirius mumbles, staring resolutely at the sky and oh Merlin, Remus thinks, why did he have to go and open his big mouth.

Remus jumps to his feet, bunching up the blanket in his arms, trying to hide his face within the folds. "Well - um - it's getting cold, isn't it? We should head in. You'll be okay sharing my bed? You take one end, I take the other? I have a spare pair of pyjamas you can borrow, they'll probably be a bit small on you but that should be fine, right?" Oh, how Remus wishes he could just stop talking.

Sirius sighs, then reaches up and pulls on the sleeves of Remus' jumper until he's doubled over, his knees buckling under his weight, muscles in his back protesting at the position.

"It all sounds good, Remus. Everything is good, okay?"

"You only have to say if - if you're not comfortable with anything, I can - I'll figure something else out."

"Listen, it's all perfect. So you're definitely ready to go back in? Because I can't feel my fingers but I'll totally sit out here with you all night if that's what you're into."

Remus shakes Sirius off his arm and throws the blanket at his obnoxious head, "God. Come on, let's go." 

The evening that proceeds in the company of the Lupin's is a surreal experience for Sirius. He arrived too late for dinner so they cluster around the small table in the bright yellow kitchen, drinking tea from chipped brown mugs and passing a plate of oat biscuits back and forth between them; they talk about Hogwarts, of their chosen subjects for the upcoming O.W.L year, and Sirius occasionally compliments the Lupin's home when he feels he's being too quiet. It's all so thoroughly nice and ordinary that Sirius is half expecting his mother to burst in at any second to ruin their lives as well.

It's a world away from Sirius' own home life, or any of the other pure blood family events he and Regulus have been dragged to by his parents over the years before Sirius decided he'd had enough. Everything here is informal in the best sense of the word. Sirius never knew it could be this pleasant, or warm, or safe; he never understood the concept of what family can mean until now.

Remus pushes back his mug and stretches his arms over his head with a contented, sleepy yawn. Sirius has never seen him look this relaxed and he's completely pulled in by the sight, so much that he catches himself openly staring, hurrying to busy himself with the remains of his own mug before Remus or his parents can notice.

"We're going to head upstairs. Do you want any help with the mugs or - "

Mrs. Lupin waves him away with a smile, "Oh, heaven's no, Remus. You go along now."

"Not too late." his father warns, snatching up the last biscuit. "Don't make me set the garden gnomes on you."

"He's kidding." Remus assures Sirius, who is torn between bemusement and alarm. Remus grabs hold of Sirius' arm and pulls him from his chair, bidding his parents a swift goodnight before his father can make any more jokes.

They traipse up the narrow staircase of the cottage, Sirius close behind Remus and trailing his hands along the rough textured wall. Sirius wants to pinch the loose thread sticking out of Remus' collar, watching it brush against the back of his neck where hair meets jumper. He wonders what Remus would do if he did.

"I like your parents." Sirius says instead, following Remus into his room.

"Good," Remus smiles, walking across the space and turning on a lamp, casting the room in soft light. "I like them too."

Sirius comes over too, squinting at the most bizarre lamp he has ever seen. "What's making that light up? Is it batteries too?"

Remus looks down at it in confusion, momentarily forgetting Sirius is from a strictly wizarding background. "Oh, it's called electricity. I'd explain it to you but I'd worry we'd be here all night."

"Why? Because I'm a filthy pure blood with no experience in muggle inventions?"

"No." Remus throws Sirius an exasperated glance. "Because I have no idea where I would even begin. I'm not all-knowing, you know."

"Well, I wouldn't say that exactly - hold on," Sirius says, leaning closer to Remus. "You've got something in your hair. I can't tell if it's alive. Might be a bit of a leaf."

"What? Get it out!" Remus cries, aghast, tipping his head in Sirius' direction frantically.

He had never expected this, Sirius thinks. Remus makes him feel like he's _worth_ something. There were people in the past who had acted like he was - someone important - but it all came down to his name. Artificial emotions used to be all he knew until he arrived at Hogwarts, and then there was Remus. Remus, who felt things inwardly, whose trust you had to earn before you could delve in deep too and listen to everything he kept quiet, who didn't make you feel important but _privileged_ to hear those things. 

Remus' hair is rusted copper glinting beneath Sirius' wandering fingertips, shifting into gold as he cards his fingers through the strands, and it's so easy to stand here and just be a boy in the throes of a very severe crush on one of his best friend's rather than Sirius Black, Supreme Family Disappointment.

It's easy to let his hand linger there, to forget the bug shaped leaf or leaf shaped bug and feel his way over the terrain of Remus' skull with a hesitant but engrossed touch; it's just as easy to pretend it hasn't happened when Remus pulls away and to slip back into the role Sirius has always played, easy even when Remus seems to be pretending too.

"Think it's gone, must have been a bug."

Remus handles it all with good grace and looks completely horrified at the idea of an escaped insect. 

"Now I'm going to think there's something crawling on me all through the night."

"Don't say that!"

"Why?"

"We're sharing a bed, it might get me too."

Remus shakes his head, walking over to a chest of drawers. "Speaking of bed, let me get you something to sleep in. Just...just don't laugh." he says, rummaging through the top drawer and coming up with a matching striped shirt and trouser set. He tosses them to Sirius, who identifies the pyjamas as a pair he's seen Remus wearing on many a night.

Sirius holds the pyjama top against himself and starts to laugh despite Remus' warning. "Please tell me those drawers are full of these things. Did you buy out the shop? I bet you're never going to run out."

Remus' cheeks turn pink, "I told you not to laugh! They're good pyjamas!"

"I guess I'm going to find that out for myself." Sirius says, whipping off his ratty t-shirt and struggling into the pyjamas, not bothering to unbutton the top and opting to wriggle into it instead. His head reemerges, hair thrown into every direction. "How do I look?"

"Like you're wearing excellent sleepwear."

"The finest, I'm sure - wait, where are you going?"

Remus stops, hand hovering over the door handle. "To get changed in the bathroom. I'll be back in a minute."

"You don't have to do that, Remus."

"Maybe not but..." Remus smiles with a shrug, even as he slips quietly from the room.

Sirius tries not to dwell on that, thinking that maybe Remus isn't completely pretending after all. He turns away from the door and walks in a circle to take in all of Remus' room; there's a place for everything, shelves arranged tidily, his bed made up with barely a wrinkle, even the wardrobe slightly ajar reveals jumpers hung up in an orderly row. It makes Sirius feel guilty about the state of his own room until he remembers his mother blasting everything in sight to smithereens over a poster. Perhaps he'll make a point of keeping it that way.

There's a calendar tacked to the back of the door, a small circle drawn into the corner of one square from a week ago and it takes Sirius a minute to figure out that it's a moon. Sirius walks up to it, taking the pencil shoved through the spirals that bind the whole thing together, turning the moon into a smiling face instead.

Remus' bedside table holds a sizeable collection of those muggle novels he constantly has his nose in, Sirius even recognises a few from seeing Remus propped up in bed or slouched across the table in the common room at Hogwarts with one of them in hand. He lets his hand travel over the cover of the topmost book, along the cracked spine, smiling at the memory of the first time he'd asked Remus about Jane Eyre.

Sirius drops down onto the dark green blanket of the bed, feeling enveloped by everything that is so absolutely Remus, gladly letting it wash over him. It's almost painful, this longing to hide himself away in this tiny moment and stay here forever. It makes him wish he could forget these feelings, thinking that maybe he wouldn't be so dependant on Remus to make him feel better about himself if he only he _could_ forget.

"Merlin, I'm in over my head." he mutters to himself, jumping at the door swinging open.

Remus steps back into the room, carrying a bundle of carefully folded clothes, toeing the door shut behind him.

"Did you say something?"

"No, just - thinking aloud."

Remus doesn't bat an eyelid at that. "My parents are heading to bed now, we'll have to be quiet - unless you're tired too?" he adds, noticing Sirius sat on the bed.

"I could turn in." Sirius says, although he feels anything but tired.

"Oh, uh - right. Here, let me give you a pillow..."

The next few minutes are spent in silent awkwardness as they arrange their ends of the single bed, fluffing pillows and pulling at the duvet. There's so little room that it's hard not to touch. Remus reaches over and turns off the lamp beside the bed - electricity, Sirius reminds himself, the tenacity of muggles - and Sirius can still see the impression of Remus' face imprinted on the inside of his eyelids when he blinks at the sudden darkness.

"Are you okay?"

The hushed question from Remus sounds closer and more intimate than daylight would have allowed, and Sirius feels it tingle down and along his spine and to his toes.

"Yeah."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Remus whispers again into the dark, too hot beneath the sheets with Sirius' foot pressing into his hip. 

"You read me too well sometimes." Sirius' voice is barely audible, murmuring the words to himself.

"Sirius?"

"There's nothing to talk about." comes his louder reply, swallowed up by the night. Sirius has no idea if Remus is referring to his family or the way he let his hand stay a little too long in Remus' hair but either way, Sirius isn't ready to open it to discussion.

Remus should have expected it. He looks down and sees Sirius' hand resting at his side; Remus can just about reach by stretching his fingertips out, grazing the skin on the back of Sirius's hand with clear intention. Slowly, Sirius turns his hand over, threading fingers through Remus', squeezing tight.

"I'm really happy you came, Sirius."

Sirius shuts his eyes against the sincerity in Remus' voice, "Me too."

When Remus wakes the following morning, he finds the end of his bed vacant save for the jumbled pile of pyjamas occupying the space where Remus had expected to find his friend. He drops back down onto the pillow, knowing Sirius is long gone by now, wondering why he feels so deflated inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said one chapter per week but I couldn't help myself. Truth be told, I'm far more pleased with how the rest of the chapters came out compared to 1 +2 because I worked on those last and by that point, I was just ready to finish this fic after over two years of writing it.


	4. Chapter 4

Fifth Year

The platform is a buzzing, jostling hive of activity; sobbing parents trap chagrined children in tight hugs, escaped cats zip past buckling knees and wobbling school trunks, friends reunite and prepare for the year ahead.

Remus Lupin bids his own parents farewell, allowing his mother to gather him close and press red kisses onto his cheeks, ignorant to the lipstick marks left behind. She grasps his face and does her best to conceal the tremor in her voice, though shining eyes give her away.

"I'll be fine, mum. You know I'll write to you every weekend, I always have." Remus says gently, willingly accepting the assortment of chocolates she forces into his hands. 

"I k-k-know, " she whimpers, dabbing a handkerchief to her eyes. "It always feels like an age until I see you again."

"I'll be back for Christmas, just a few months."

"I imagine his responsibilities will keep him busy through most of the year," his dad chips in, chest puffing up with pride. "He's a Prefect now, after all!"

Remus offers a tight lipped smile, glancing over his shoulder at the crowd bustling about them; truth be told, Remus couldn't quite manage to reign in his surprise when he discovered the pin within his Hogwarts letter, double and triple checking it to make sure it was real. He hadn't given much thought to the new selection of Prefect's the coming year - forgotten it altogether, in fact - but if he had, he would never have considered himself as a candidate, too unstable was his timetable, too divided was his attention.

He still feels slightly dazed and awed to imagine Dumbledore personally selecting him from his house, the thought alone stopping him from immediately owling the Headmaster a list of alternative - and what he imagines more suitable - suggestions for the position. He's gripped by the need to prove that Dumbledore made the right choice, to show that he can live up to and exceed expectations.

The Hogwarts Express emits a piercing whistle, smoke half engulfing the platform, and Remus' mother gives him an encouraging shove.

"You better get going and find your friends before the train is ready to leave." she says tearfully as his father reaches over to embrace him, scratchy stubble grazing his skin. "Here, let me just straighten your bag, dear - there. You know I love you."

"I know, I love you too - both of you." Remus shouts over the din, already being swept up in the tide of students upon his father's release. He catches one more fleeting glimpse of his mother's waving hand before losing sight of them completely, now free to locate his friends.

It's easy to spot Sirius, waiting exactly where his most recent owl said he would be, pressed up against the wall near the far end of the train, drowning in that absurd leather jacket of his. He's alone - as usual - no sign of his own parents or younger brother, for the most part looking relatively unfazed by the heartfelt farewell scenes happening around him. His long legs are clad in dark muggle jeans and stretched out as far as they allow, the picture of carefully constructed nonchalance.

Remus takes this moment to revel in seeing but being unseen; Sirius' jaw works as a piece of gum bounces around his open mouth, eyes scanning and missing Remus in the crowd. He holds himself more stiffly without the company of his comrades, guarded against being confronted by so many strange faces, unprepared to put his back to any of them for the present. For all of its beauty, that stony face would keep anyone at a cautionary distance.

Remus wonders if this is a truer reflection of Sirius, almost wishes to extend the experience until the minute Sirius finally notices him, his face breaking out into such unrestrained, goofy joy that his own expression automatically mimics the cheek-aching smile. Remus decides this is his friend; the hard outer shell only cracks for the people he cares most about. 

"REMUS!"

Arms are flung about his shoulders, short bursts of booming laughter nearly rupturing his eardrum and Remus feels at once a sudden surge of the familiarity of it all that he squeezes Sirius with just as much enthusiasm.

"Oh man, am I glad to see you," Sirius declares, throwing Remus back at arm's length to look at him properly. "You look good - really good. Even more so with the lipstick."

"What?" 

Sirius drags his thumb down Remus' face, holding it up to his eyes for inspection. Remus is mortified to see the remnants of his mother's lipstick smeared all over Sirius' thumb, surely as red and glowing as his cheeks.

"I see Mrs. Lupin has once again come up trumps with the provisions for our journey," Sirius continues delightedly, gesturing at the chocolates still in Remus' hands. "I swear, your mother deserves an Order of Merlin for keeping us in good supply every year. You'll have to pass on my thanks in your next letter home."

"Oh, believe me, " Remus mutters darkly, wiping furiously at his face with a crumbled tissue. "She'll be getting a letter a lot sooner than she thinks."

"You're making that worse, Remus." Sirius laughs, positively giddy now he has Remus for company. 

"Yeah, yeah. How was the rest of your summer, anyway?" Remus hesitates, chewing off the skin on his lip. He proceeds cautiously, quietly. "Was worried for a minute there, didn't hear a lot from you after – after you disappeared."

For a moment, the smile on Sirius' face tightens. It had been unusual that Sirius' steady flow of owl post would cease so suddenly a few weeks into the summer holidays, especially after his surprise visit to Remus' home; it had bothered Remus at first, thinking that Sirius had found something more interesting to do than correspond with him. He began to analyse the last letter he'd written to Sirius, thought that maybe he shouldn't have gone off on a tangent about the benefits of investing in a pair of good quality woollen socks. It felt like he'd been waiting for this to happen, for Sirius to get tired of him, but when it looked to be a possibility, Remus had been wholly unprepared.

After a week of nothing and driving himself mad with concern, Remus started to think that he had misjudged Sirius' mood after he made that accursed joke in his garden, that everything wasn't alright despite Sirius' indirect assurances. Maybe Sirius had turned to James and Peter, told them that Remus had - what, exactly? Remus had said nothing worse than what Sirius would regularly say. Remus was used to Sirius flirting at him every day, it had become part of their norm - it was the way Sirius acted with everyone. What if Sirius had never dreamt that Remus would reciprocate? What if it had spooked him?

Remus decided to write to James, forgetting he was abroad with his family, grew worried as days went by without an answer. Peter didn't have an owl, he relied solely on the ones on loan in the post office so his replies tended to be slow but Remus wrote to him all the same, expectant every morning and anxious when nothing came. Remus had half convinced himself that his friends no longer wanted anything to do with him by the time James' letter - more of an essay, the envelope as thick as a book - arrived at his house, the owl surly and distinctly annoyed at carrying such a burden. 

Sirius hadn't been in contact with James either. That made him nervous. When Peter's reply came stating the same, Remus was almost ready to suggest turning up at Sirius' house when a letter bearing the Black family crest finally fell in through the kitchen window, attached to a ruffled barn owl. It said nothing bearing an explanation of his absence, only briefly outlining where he'd be waiting for them on the 1st September, as if he hadn't been missing in action for a chunk of the summer or caused Remus to tear half his hair out in agitation.

"That bad, huh?" Remus asks softly, receiving a dismissive shrug in return.

"Stop looking at me like that, Remus."

"Like what?"

Sirius shrugs again. Remus nearly takes him by the shoulders just to keep him from doing it. "Like I'm some wounded animal that you want to take home and fuss over or something. It's fine. I'm fine."

Remus sighs, "Fine."

"Fine." Sirius repeats, letting the smile slip back onto his face. "I’m sorry for leaving without saying goodbye, though. Can you tell your parents I’m grateful for their hospitality? I don’t think I’ve made a very good impression on them – then again, first impressions aren’t my strong suit.”

“They liked you just fine,” Remus says, squirming at the memory of his mother’s disappointment when Remus declared Sirius had left, at his father’s tut of disapproval from behind his morning paper.

“That's sweet, Remus, but you don’t have to lie.” Sirius sighs, letting his eyes drop to the floor. “Come on, let's just get on the train, find some seats. James already went on ahead - he saw Lily Evans."

That was explanation enough for James' absence. Remus knew James was probably ruffling his hair that very moment, intending to ask Lily Evans how her summer went and instead, blurting out that he was going to win the school Quidditch cup in her honour. Remus almost pitied his friend; he was so thoroughly charmed at the sight of Lily that his mouth often spoke before consulting his brain. It was painful to watch, Remus couldn't even comprehend how Lily must feel.

"Peter?" Remus inquires, letting Sirius tow him through a cluster of giggling girls to board the train.

"I'm not sure, probably around here somewhere."

"Shouldn't we wait - "

Sirius is pulling him by the strap of his satchel, students half crushed into the walls of the narrow train corridor so they can pass. "Remus, if we wait any longer the train will leave without us."

"But we agreed on meeting before boarding, he'll think we're running late or - "

Sirius spins on the spot, standing almost nose to nose with Remus, halting the progress of movement. A sixth year already in her school robes tuts loudly at them blocking the route, wand tapping against her arm impatiently.

"You know Peter, he'll get frantic with worry if we - "

"Pete's frantic with worry every day, Remus. I saw him practically bawl his eyes out last year over a pair of trousers."

"Wasn't that because you'd jinxed them to scream at him every time he tried to put them on?"

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that." Sirius says, chortling, a hand going through his hair. "He thought they'd been possessed by dark magic."

"It's not funny!" Remus reprimands, peering out of the dirt-streaked window at the platform. "I really do think we should go back out and wait."

"Trust me, Remus. He's a big boy, he'll be alright." Sirius says calmly, his focus shifting onto something over Remus' shoulder, eyes suddenly twinkling. "Ah, James."

"Of course it would be you blocking the way!" the voice of James calls over bobbing heads. "Move it, would you? This isn't your own personal train, Black!"

Murmurs of agreement erupt around them and Remus' face flames, feeling as if the entire train has honed in on them. Sirius doesn't even flinch, he seems more amused at Remus' embarrassment than anything else.

"Alright, alright. We'll meet you further down, look out for us!" Sirius yells back, voice dropping so that only Remus can hear him. "I guess his rendezvous with Evans didn't go as well as he'd hoped."

"When does it ever?" Remus grumbles, relieved when Sirius moves again.

"Look, if Pete doesn't find us in ten minutes, we'll go find him. Satisfied with that?"

"...oh, fine."

Sirius blindly reaches back, managing to muss up Remus' hair without even looking, dismissing compartments as they make their way down the train.

"Too full - oh Merlin, not that one Remus! Are you mad? That's Hettie Cooper - Slytherins - more Slytherins - hello, ladies - pardon me, and gentlemen - we can't possibly sit in there, Remus, I'm actually offended you would even suggest - Oh. Hey, look! Peter!" Sirius says brightly, stopping at a sliding door to point at Peter Pettigrew, who is waving with such gusto his hands have all but disappeared. "Told you he'd be okay."

"Finally," Peter starts, his cheeks a little rosy, a frantic hand patting the seat beside him for Remus. "I was late, I thought I wasn't going to find you in time so I got on the train and saved some seats and then Snape tried to come in here but then he saw me and sort of froze and then he kind of scowled and Lily Evans came past and his face went kind of pale and - "

Peter is interrupted by the compartment door sliding open and shut again, a dishevelled James falling into the seat next to Sirius, chewing on a liqourice wand.

"Did I hear someone say Lily Evans?" he asks hopefully. Sirius casts a disparaging look at Peter, then one of plain suffering at Remus. "Why is your face all red and splotchy, Remus? Is that lipstick?"

"His mother's. Don't get ahead of yourself, James. I suppose you dazzled Evans, did you?" Sirius sighs heavily, knowing that it's easier to get it over with rather than letting it stew, watching Remus peer at his reflection in the window so he can scrub away at the lipstick stain on his cheek.

James kicks his feet up onto the bench opposite, throwing the liqourice wand down beside him, mouth turned down in a grimace. 

"Well, she ended up calling me a lousy, dim-witted jerk with a head that resembles the bad end of a hippogriff but I think I got off pretty lightly considering that the last time I saw her, she said I was an arrogant, selfish, pompous pri - "

"Okay!" Remus interjects, giving up on the leftover lipstick residue and hastily pulling out a school textbook from his bag. "I think we get the idea."

"Yeah, we all know exactly what Lily Evans thinks of you. Most days, I'm inclined to agree - " Sirius chuckles, dodging the kick James aims his way.

" - and you know what she told me? She said she's been made Prefect." James adds sullenly. "She said she'd be watching me closely and that if I put so much as a toe out of line while she's around, she'll be reporting me to McGonagall in the flash of a phoenix."

Remus can't look up at any of them. He traces the spine of his book, feeling ashamed and not at all ready; he'd been saving his own Prefect news especially for this journey. He spent the rest of summer dreading this moment - between his surprise at the sight of the pin and worrying over Sirius - but now that it was here, he couldn't think of how to begin.

Hours were spent in his room, imagining this conversation and imagining it all over again, picturing every possible scenario, every gasp, every raised eyebrow and disbelieving glare. He knows his friends have a particular distaste for authority, that they flaunt and flirt with every rule and still somehow manage to skate by any real, lasting trouble.

He doesn't want to be just another joke to them, another opportunity to push their limits.

"I wonder who the other one is," Sirius ponders as if in tune with Remus' thoughts, tapping at the window with his fingernail in a steady rhythm. "Better ask around, know who we have to avoid."

"Or mess with." James says, winking at Peter.

"You read my mind, James. I've been working on a prank specifically for this time of year, when those dear little first years are herded up the staircase and in front of our charming Fat Lady. When the Prefect arrives upstairs with the darling cherubs, we'll have already reset the password by - "

"Actually - " Remus cuts in, stopping short when they all turn to look at him. He hadn't meant to speak up so soon, only wanted to stop them before he was forced to do something rash - like take points off them before they even arrive at Hogwarts. It'd be a new record.

Sirius pauses in his tapping, cocks his head at Remus. "Actually...?"

He takes a fortifying breath, knowing he can't delay this any longer, and stares fixedly at his knees before surging on. The words spurt out of him like steam from a kettle, unstoppable and irretrievable.

"Actually, uh - well, I need to tell you - what I want to say is - " Remus stutters. This isn't going as he planned.

James laughs. "Frog in your throat, Remus?"

"It's me. I'm the Prefect. I've been made - the letter came a few weeks ago - it's - I'm the other Prefect. Me. I have the badge here - "

Remus reaches into his bag, rummaging until he finds the small envelope he's been keeping the pin in. He shakes it out onto the palm of his hand, silently offering it out to James, who takes it after only a second's hesitation.

Remus feels he should be braver but no matter how many times he tells himself that, he can't look beyond his knobbly knees.

"Well," James finally says after a thorough examination, mostly recovered from the shock. He peers over the top of his glasses, smiling. "I guess we have to change our ways now, huh? You'll make decent men of us yet. Nice one, Remus."

Peter stretches out a pudgy hand for Remus to shake, beaming from ear to ear. "Congratulations!"

"Wait, really?" Remus stutters, hardly daring to believe it, so ready for disgust and horror, not handshakes and approval.

"Course! What did you think we'd say, Remus?" James asks, voice only a touch offended. "Besides, I had a feeling it would be you, no doubt about it."

James hands the badge over to Sirius, who treats it like it's cursed, pinching it between thumb and finger, squinting at it as if it could spontaneously combust. This is the reaction Remus is fearing, Sirius' approval the one he most desperately seeks.

Sirius holds it up to the light, watching the gleam shift across its surface, letting his thumb swipe across the shining, golden P. He's not sure what to think; had he ever really imagined that any of them could become a Prefect? He'd thought they'd sat one too many detentions for that, done far too much time with Filch to be thought of as exemplary students. 

Had he actually lumped Remus in with the three of them?

Remus is diligent, hardworking, quietly disciplined in almost all aspects of life. He's rarely been summoned to McGonagall's office for a stern talking to, always there waiting in the common room for them to return instead. His place is on the outskirts of their confrontations, barely even an observer of their pranks. Of course Dumbledore noticed him when he was trying to go unnoticed.

"It's quite - uh - shiny." Sirius offers, passing the pin back to its owner.

"...shiny." James says flatly, eyes narrowing at Sirius.

"Sure." Sirius retorts back smoothly, finding his feet again. He reaches into his jean pockets, coming up with a box of muggle-made cigarettes, shaking it out so one lands in his hand. He's not sure why he does it but it feels like a dare for Remus, a way to hit back at the unwelcome surprise - a reprove for him not warning them sooner, for taking Sirius' good mood and flipping it upside down.

Remus doesn't make any comment about his lacklustre reply, merely harrumphs from his seat in the compartment, securing himself behind his book. "I wish you wouldn't smoke."

"I wish you wouldn't nag." Sirius mumbles, smiling past the cigarette clamped between his teeth, lighting the tip of it with his wand. 

"You're incorrigible."

Sirius' grin disappears behind a cloud of smoke for a second. "I think you mean indomitable."

"...no. No, I think I'll stick with what I said. Where did you even get those?!"

"Muggle shop around the corner from my house. Didn't seem to mind about my age."

"I doubt that."

Sirius mistakes Remus' meaning, "It wasn't anything that an ageing potion couldn't fix."

"You'd never brew up an ageing potion. Besides, you know perfectly well you could pass for at least seventeen." Remus huffs, eyeing his friend with disapproval. 

It is true though; Sirius looks older beyond his years. They are all growing - and still growing, at that - but Sirius seems to be ahead. Already there is a smudge of dark hairs peppering his jawline, his long hair tied up and away from his face. It lends him the air of confidence - nothing that he is short of as it is - that often eludes most their age. Remus can see why any muggle would unquestionably give Sirius whatever he wanted, it wouldn't be an impossible thing to think that Sirius is anything except for what he claimed to be. It's something about his eyes in particular that seem to mature him, something dancing behind the grey, a seriousness not often exhibited in company of his friends.

Sirius holds up his hands in surrender but blows a stream of smoke towards Remus, cackling when Remus' nose crinkles up in disgust.

"I can probably take points off you for this, Sirius." Remus splutters, strongly resisting the urge to pull out his wand to vanish the whole pack entirely. 

"Your own house? Traitor."

"I doubt it'll have to be the only time I do it." Remus mutters under his breath, eyes catching the face of his watch, his stomach lurching. "Oh no!" he cries, book sliding from his fingers. "Oh no, oh no, oh no!"

"What is it?!" Sirius asks, going ignored as Remus reaches into his bag to pull out school robes, fretting at the wrinkles, trying his best to smooth them out.

Peter sits up, checks his own watch, worries that he's miscalculated the distance of the journey, "Where're you going? We've only been on the train for half an hour."

Remus almost hits Peter in the face as he swings his bag onto his shoulder, "Sorry, Peter. I have to go to the Prefect's carriage! They're giving us our instructions for when we arrive - oh god, I can't believe I'm going to be late."

"Are you coming back?" Sirius demands, glaring at Remus as he attaches the Prefect badge to his chest in plain view.

"I imagine I'll be back before long. If not, I'll see you at the feast."

No sooner has the hem of Remus' school robes whipped out of view that James rounds on Sirius.

"What in the name of Merlin was that, Sirius?" he reproaches, picking up his abandoned liqourice wand and launching it at his nonplussed friend. It bounces off his chest, landing with a muffled thud on the floor.

"What?! What was that for!"

"You bloody well know what it was for. I thought you were going to pitch that pin out of the window! The look on your face!"

Oh, Sirius thinks. He hadn't been as careful with his feelings as he thought he was.

"You better make it up to him, I swear. If I noticed how crabby you were, Remus certainly will have!"

"I doubt he did, he was so desperate to get out of here - "

James shakes his head and expels a long, suffering sigh. "I wonder at you knowing Remus as well as I think you do, sometimes."

"Fine." Sirius huffs, catching the raised eyebrow from James. "I said fine! I'll talk to him later."

"You better."

It isn't until they're once again surrounded by the stony walls of Hogwarts later that evening, after a sleepy but dutiful Remus has shepherded first years past the portrait of the Fat Lady - thankfully without incident - and into the comforting warmth of Gryffindor common room, that Sirius approaches him.

He waits silently as Remus and Lily Evans finish up their Prefect duties, waving off one final first year who has misplaced their school hat somewhere between the hall and the common room.

"Well, that went better than I expected, at least. We should probably keep an eye on that one, he'll be telling us he's lost his wand next." Lily says, stifling a yawn, bestowing a sleepy smile on Remus. "I really am glad you've been made Prefect too, you might be able to drill some sense into Potter's fat head and then we all can be free of his - sorry. Sorry, Remus, I know he's your friend. You must think I'm awful, ranting about him like this to you."

"Not at all, I promise."

"I'll see you tomorrow, alright?"

Remus bids her goodnight, pleased to find Lily as agreeable to him as much as she finds James detestable. He's never spent much time alone with her before due to her aversion of being closer than a Quidditch pitch to James but during the short time they've been together as Prefects, he's seen a thoughtfulness and deep consideration in Lily that he rather admires. 

"So - " Sirius calls from his favourite armchair, previously unnoticed. He's sunk low into the cushions, staring at Remus from beneath his eyelashes, his eyes blown black in the dim light. He's comfortably full from the feast but there's a heaviness that sits in his gut when he recounts how he behaved earlier.

Remus warily turns away from the staircase to the boy's dormitories, surveys Sirius in the chair. "...so?"

"Very chummy with Lily Evans now, aren't you? Wouldn't let James see, he'll probably faint from the jealousy. He'll be asking you to pass notes on from him next."

"Not even James would go that far."

"Maybe, maybe not. This isn't what I wanted to talk to you about anyway."

Remus leans against the wall and sighs, ready for sleep, trying not to dwell on his aching legs. "What is it then?"

"Prefect, eh? James and I should look out for you, obediently patrolling the corridors with that pinned to your chest." Sirius smiles gently, flashing teeth, hoisting himself to his feet with effort. His movements are lazy but smooth, as graceful as a cat as he approaches Remus. He involuntarily drops his eyes to the Prefect badge, a glint of metal against Remus' robes. "I bet you can't wait to take points off us, finally get back at us for everything we put you through."

"You're my friend, Sirius, I'd rather you not give me the option."

"I'll promise to behave," Sirius says, smile growing wider. "At least, I will when you're nearby."

"That's hardly comforting."

Sirius shrugs and takes a step closer, shirking off any traces of humour. "Congratulations, Remus. I mean it. I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner. I guess I was - well, I was a real jerk."

"Yes, you were."

So he had noticed.

Sirius flinches at the disappointment in Remus' voice, the edge of unhappiness. He moves a fraction nearer, letting a hand fall on Remus' shoulder, wishing he could do more. The fire throws dancing shadows across his friend's features; he's half burnished in soft, hazy orange, those copper wisps caught in his hair. Remus comes alive in the light. Sirius really wishes he could do more.

"You know I'd do anything for you, Remus - don't you?"

Remus doesn't know where to look, not with Sirius standing so close. He reminds himself to reply, unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

"I know."

***

From a darkened corner of the common room, a clock chimes and announces the arrival of midnight. It's a balmy May night outside the window. Three Marauders are huddled around the low table before the dying embers of the fireplace, leaning in at the trembling ball of fur atop of it.

Remus presses a hand over his eyes, voice rasping and low, stunned to find his legs still capable of holding him up. "What have you done? Why is Peter a RODENT?!" 

James and Sirius exchange glances, although they can't say that they haven't anticipated this sort of reaction from Remus. They'd known that it would take some convincing if they'd let him into their plans, so they solved that little problem by simply not telling him at all.

"Peter, change back right now!" Remus hisses, casting a nervous look about the room. "What if someone came down here?!"

"Then they'd see us all gathered over a rat like a bunch of trolls."

"You're hilarious, Sirius. I'm serious, Peter, turn back."

The rat remains on the table, squeaking in a frenzy. James leans down close to it and stares into its eyes, shaking his head in exasperation.

"He's gone and done it again."

"Done what?!"

"Got himself stuck - it's okay!" James adds, catching the aghast expression on Remus' face. "Give him a moment, he'll get there eventually."

"This is completely insane," Remus says, dropping to his knees to look into the rat's pinprick black eyes too, trying to see anything that would show any resemblance to his friend. "This is above and beyond the total disregard for rules and regulations I thought you capable of. What on earth possessed you to become Animagi?!"

He can barely breathe; he's not familiar with the particulars but he knows that the process of becoming Animagi - the ability to change into an animal at will - is a long, tenuous one. To find out that his three best friends had somehow kept it secret from the teachers - secret from him - is something else entirely.

Sirius rolls his eyes, "You need to relax a bit Remus. Anyone would think we've done something illegal."

"You're idiots. You - all of you are idiots."

"I wouldn't go as far as to say that. What we just demonstrated for you was nothing short of natural skill - and a good deal of crying from Peter."

"This isn't a joke, Sirius! Must I repeat myself? You've broken school rules - you've broken _ministry_ laws! You're right - for once - what you've done is illegal - "

"You're always telling us to find extracurricular hobbies."

"I meant joining the chess club or something, not permanently changing your bodies with magic! Good grief, the consequences! You'll get thrown out the school if you get caught - "

"And it'll be worth it." Sirius insists. "We chose to do this, Remus. This is for you, so you don't have to go through transforming alone anymore."

"I didn't ask for this, I would never ask for you to do something this reckless."

Sirius smirks, "What are you going to do? Take points off us?"

"You know perfectly well I would never report you for this. Do you think I want to see you all get chucked out?!"

"Remus? You might want to see this." James motions at Peter on the table, drawing their attention back to their furry friend. "Hand me his clothes, would you? He'll need them in a minute."

The rat is doubling in size, shooting up on the wooden table so fast that it's hard to tell when the features of the rat start morphing into those of Peter Pettigrew. Whiskers and fur seem to shrivel away and leave in place spotty skin in their stead, the black beady eyes growing lighter and larger, practically bulging from his still-too-small skull. Remus watches with grotesque fascination as Peter's face remoulds itself like stubborn dough reworking itself back into its original state.

"Oh my god." Remus says weakly, paler than usual. He can't help but draw comparisons between this and his own werewolf transformations. He wonders if he looks quite so ghastly when he changes. "That was entirely horrific."

"It doesn't hurt!" Peter assures, now back to his whole human self, accepting James' arm so he can climb off the table. He continues to happily chat as he pulls on trousers. "It's only a little hard to tell myself when to turn back, it's like trying to find a door handle in the dark. You know it's there but you're not exactly sure where."

"We still haven't told you the best part." James says, nodding at Sirius. "We have nicknames. We thought it'd be handy to use on the Map, once it's finished. A way of signing it without actually using our real names."

Remus thought this night couldn't possibly get any worse. "Nicknames." he says flatly.

"No, listen, right -" Sirius begins, holding his hands out before him, ready to deliver a pitch. He gestures at Peter first. "Pete is Wormtail - "

"Wormtail?"

"He turns into a rat, Remus. Keep up." Sirius replies swiftly. "Dear old James is Prongs but you'll know why soon enough, he's too big to transform in here."

"And what of you, Sirius? What name have you chosen for yourself, I wonder?"

"Padfoot."

"I can't imagine why. Don't tell me you're too large to change inside as well?"

Sirius shakes his head, his grin off the charts. "I'm saving it, just you wait. I'll be able to keep up with you, no problem."

"Don't worry, Remus, we picked out a name for you too. You're Moony." James interjects, laughing at Remus' reaction.

"Moony..." Remus says aloud, testing it out. "Your sense of humour is something to be desired, James."

"We could have gone less subtle; Sirius was all for calling you Wolfy."

"And Moony is subtle, is it?"

James crosses his arms and lifts a shoulder up in a half shrug, "Better than Wolfy but if you'd rather have that..."

"Oh god, no."

"Well, now that that's settled, you ready?" Sirius asks, standing up straight, offering his hand out for Remus to take.

"What now? Are you going to tell me you've started dating the giant squid?"

"The giant squid should be so lucky. But no. We are heading down that way though, a sort of mini celebration." Sirius explains, winking when Remus reluctantly takes his hand. "That, and I really want to show you what I can do."

"Oh, really?" the sarcasm is heavy in Remus' voice, though he tries to hide the tiniest bit of curiosity.

"Merlin's Beard," Sirius sighs, tugging on Remus' hand to get him moving towards the portrait hole. "Just come on already. Grab that bag, would you, Pete?"

"Why?"

"Trust me, you'll be thanking me later."

Together, they creep out of the dormitory (Sirius uncontrollably snickering at the snores of the Fat Lady) and shuffle along the corridors towards the moving staircase. It's a path walked often enough that they hardly pause, moving slow and steady, squashed together beneath James' invisibility cloak; it's a tool frequently used to smuggle himself and his friends out of the castle, though perhaps with greater difficulty now they're no longer eleven. 

Remus is hyper aware of his hand still tightly held onto by Sirius' as they navigate the silent school, moving as if in a dream, the chortles of his friends softly sounding on all sides of him as they trip over feet, so close together it's hard to tell whose is who.

Hogwarts is especially beautiful at night, asleep besides the chink of armour and the rustle of tapestries against stone walls, the luminescent pearliness of a wandering ghost, a low cough from a portrait nearby. Remus wants to hold onto this as hard as his grip on Sirius.

Outside, the school grounds are saturated in a wash of blue. There's nothing to light their way down to the tree beside the lake except the pale glow of the moon and the beam from their wands, shielding the tips with their hands to prevent drawing attention to themselves.

James tucks the invisibility cloak under his arm and collapses carelessly onto the ground. He's become much less arrogant these past few years and especially so now, alone but for his band of comrades. There is no need for him to perform for them; they know him inside and out.

Peter plops loyally beside James, bright eyed and excitable from their newly shared secret and the incredible achievement he never thought himself capable. He itches to try it again, to turn into a rat and continue to amaze his friends while the novelty is still fresh but he resists and holds back, knowing James will likely disapprove of these particular longings. Peter knows that there is plenty of time for such antics.

There is no such conflict within Sirius' mind and nor does he care of upsetting James' peaceful mood. 

"You ready to see what I become, Moony?"

"Must you call me Moony?"

"Yes."

"Ugh. Well, I suppose you better get on with it then."

"As you wish."

Sirius yanks off his tie, pulling his shirt over his head in one clean motion. Remus' brain fries at the sight of Sirius' skin, the jut of hipbones and soft curve of belly; it takes him a minute to realise what is happening, even as Sirius reaches for the fastening of his trousers. Half of him wants to turn to James and Peter to see what they're making of this, the other half can't look away.

"What are you _doing_ , Sirius?"

"...taking my clothes off?"

Remus knows his mouth is hanging open, that he's making a spectacle of himself.

"I can see that! I want to know why!"

Sirius stops, hands lingering at his waistband, fingers pattering lightly against the material. Enjoying the way Remus is reacting.

"Well, I think it'd save me a lot of trouble getting out of them now rather than later. You saw Pete change, clothes aren't exactly needed here."

"But Peter didn't just - he - "

James coughs, hiding a laugh, picking a stone out of the bottom of his shoe with his wand. "You have to remember that Peter becomes a small animal, he can just...deflate right out of his clothes. Sirius is a bit too big for that - so am I, for that matter. You'll get used to it."

"Should I proceed? Or would you like me to go change in that bush over there to spare your blushes?"

"Oh, for the - " Remus starts, flustered at Sirius' tone. Flustered at everything, really. "Just...show me."

Remus refuses to break Sirius' gaze as he pulls off the rest of his clothes, flinging shoes from his feet, tossing a sock over his shoulder. He strides towards the lake, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Remus is still watching; with perfect ease, Sirius starts to shrink down, landing on hands and knees, fur sprouting out over his skin, his nose elongating into a snout. In the blink of an eye, a large black dog stands in Sirius' place, tongue lolling out of its mouth, looking incredibly pleased with itself, tail whipping back and forth furiously. The process was a lot smoother than Peter's struggle. 

Everything just seems to come naturally to Sirius.

The dog shakes out its fur and trots over to Remus, who affords it a quick pat on the head. The dog isn't satisfied with that and jumps up onto its hind legs, heavily leaning paws on Remus' shoulders, drool gently dripping from its open mouth and onto Remus' tie.

"Disgusting. I'd appreciate it if you didn't get slobber all over me, Sirius. Now should I tell you to sit or will you do that of your own accord?" Remus muses, unable to stop himself chuckling when the dog presses a wet nose into his cheek before dropping down again.

Now that his big reveal is over with, Sirius starts to switch lazily between boy and dog with alarming pace, always confident in a way which more than hints at cockiness. After several displays of his own abilities, he rolls across the grass as a canine, morphing back into his human self before he reaches the water's edge. He stays that way, flat on his back so that he can stare up at the night sky, dragging long fingers through his hair to disrupt stray leaves that have settled there.

He's a little breathless when he appeals to Remus, trying for nonchalance but too eager for praise.

"So, what d'you think?"

"Bravo. Suits you." Remus says softly, catching the wide grin on Sirius' face. "Couldn't have thought of a better animal for you if I tried."

"James still needs to show you what he becomes!" Peter squeals excitedly, looking around at James imploringly.

James sighs quietly, only letting a trace of exasperation into the sound. "I'm a stag. Surprise."

"Oh, you ruined it..." Peter says, pouting a little.

"Remus will know me when he sees me - " James shoots a pointed look at Remus. "I'm huge, trust me. I can keep you in control."

"You're really that big?" Remus asks dubiously.

James nods. "Yep - maybe not as big as Sirius' head but we'll make do."

"Hey!" 

Remus is the only member of the party to remain standing. He doesn't know what to make of his friend's going behind his back and taking up such a risky challenge to become Animagi, all for his sake. He's hesitant to join them completely - always on the shaky verge between longing and resistance - and compromises by leaning against the tree trunk, glancing back to the castle to watch the twinkling of candles left in windows instead of at Sirius, who he's been having trouble looking away from at all lately.

Sirius calls to him, stretched out and rubbing at something in his eye. "Don't stand all the way over there, Moony. You're making the place look untidy."

"As opposed to you, lolloping all over the place. You can put your clothes back on now, you know." Remus answers, still looking away. "And stop calling me Moony."

Sirius laughs at that but remains firm, as he always does when it concerns getting under Remus' skin. It's his favourite pastime, something he's perfected over time and with plenty of practice; nothing bugs Remus more than Sirius' seemingly casual teasing.

"No. I like it, Moony suits you just fine. It's just like you to use a word like _lolloping_ in your everyday vocabulary. How can you cope, being surrounded by lesser beings such as ourselves on a daily basis?"

"It's a struggle but I manage somehow."

This garners a bigger laugh from Sirius but before he can say another word, James cuts in, as he always does when he thinks things could head the way of a clash. It happens more times than he'd like to think upon but Remus and Sirius are too different to co-exist in tranquillity all the while. What may seem like a harmless subject to begin with could end in a wand being shoved up someone's nostril before too long - namely, James'. Sirius is quick to his tempers and while Remus chooses his fights with consideration, if at all, there's something about Sirius that makes him snap. Sometimes, he just can't help but rise to it.

"Okay, stop flirting. We've come down here to celebrate, not chaperone you on your first date. Remus is right, Sirius. I think I've seen enough of you naked for one day."

"Moony loves my flirting." Sirius cracks up, obligingly getting dressed as James launches his discarded shirt at his face. "He loves me." For some reason, Remus feels his cheeks flame. 

He's _embarrassed_ that he's embarrassed and he's grateful to be half concealed in the dark because frankly, all this embarrassment is getting to be too much. Sirius unwittingly spares him of replying by pointing at the bag he insisted on bringing, already bored of the subject.

"Peter, open that, would you?"

"Why?" Peter asks cautiously. It's not the first time Sirius has told him to open a bag, only to be pranked and find his hand covered in frogspawn.

"Oh, for the - never mind. I'll do it myself," Sirius mutters, rolling his eyes. "Accio bag!"

The bag takes off from beside Peter and smacks squarely into Sirius' chest.

"OOF!"

James has to clutch a stitch in his side from laughing, Peter joining in only after checking whether Sirius was taking James' reaction well. Even Remus, the glow of humiliation finally fading from his face, allows himself a small smile.

"Yeah, yeah. Very funny." Sirius says, unzipping the bag and pulling out bottle after bottle. "Name your poison, gentlemen."

Peter gasps, "Where did you get all of that?! I wondered why the bag was so heavy!"

Lay out before them is an array of drinks, from Pumpkin Juice to Butterbeer to even a small bottle of Firewhiskey.

"After all this time, you still doubt me Wormtail?" Sirius sighs in mock disappointment. "Never you mind where I got it from, the point is I have it. What do you fancy? There's some mulled mead here, even a bit of Gillywater. Obviously I brought Pumpkin Juice, for the lightweights amongst us - " 

Remus notes that Sirius looks up at him as he says this. He knows it's a childish attempt to get Remus to drink something other than his usual glass of Pumpkin Juice and it's certainly not one he'll be falling for.

"I think I'll have a Butterbeer today, if it's all the same to you, Sirius." 

"Are you sure? Not anything to warm you up - "

"Butterbeer will do that just fine, thank you."

Wordlessly, Sirius tosses one of the bottles at Remus, who is astounded to find that he catches it. He cracks the lid and takes a hearty glug of the stuff, enjoying the way the slow warmth works its way down to his toes and fingertips in a pleasant tingling.

"Prongs! You won't let me down, I know you'll have something with a kick."

"Actually, I'll take a Butterbeer myself - don't look at me like that! You know there's a Quidditch match tomorrow, I want to stay sharp, Lily Evans will be watching." James says, holding up his hands in defence. "I'm still recovering from the last time you showed up with an armful of mulled mead. I think I had a headache for a week."

"I thought that was from a bludger to the head?"

"Yeah, after I idiotically got onto a broomstick with a hangover."

Sirius scowls and hands a bottle identical to Remus' over to James' waiting hand. "You know, you should probably give up on Lily Evans, James. She hates your guts."

"I just have to work on my charm! I can't help myself; every time I see her, I panic and open my big mouth and say something stupid in the heat of the moment, then she hates me all over again. I'm trying to be better."

"Well, no one can accuse you of being a quitter." Sirius acknowledges. "The trials of courtship, eh? It'll be your turn next, Peter. Soon enough you'll be all aghast because your lady love is casting hexes and dark looks at you in the corridors."

"I don't think so..."

"Perhaps a handsome young man then?"

"I'm not sure about that either. I don't really want anyone; I've never felt anything like that."

Sirius shrugs, "The heart knows what it wants - or doesn't, for that matter. I suppose you'll be wasting all this too?" he adds, rattling the bag so the bottles chink against one another.

"Just Pumpkin Juice, please." Peter squeaks, bottle slipping through his fingers when Sirius moves to drop his requested drink into his lap.

"Fine, I'll have to just drink this myself. Here I was, thinking we were celebrating - "

"And we are. Celebrating sober. You should try it sometime, Sirius." Remus mumbles, eyeing the Firewhiskey Sirius is attempting to open, unscrewing the cap with his teeth.

"Sobriety is overrated." Sirius says shortly after spitting the cap out of his mouth, defiantly holding Remus' gaze as he takes a sip of the amber liquid. "I don't imagine our dear Remus is looking for love?"

Remus narrows his eyes, tetchy and suddenly worried at the direction the conversation has taken, "Who are you trying to impress?"

James, in the process of emptying his own bottle, is unprepared for Remus' retort back; he nearly sprays Butterbeer all over Peter when he hears Remus speak up, dabbing at his dripping chin with the sleeve of his jumper.

Sirius' cheeks go splotchy, a tell-tale sign that he's been caught out. "No one! Who says I'm trying to impress anyone?!"

"I meant it rhetorically."

"Come off it."

"All right. If you're looking for an answer - usually when you're this conceited, there's a couple of girls following us. From what I can see, there are no girls around today...unless you're trying to woo the giant squid?"

"There's no wooing involved." Sirius insists, his face turning redder by the minute.

"Then what are you trying to run from, Sirius? I can only presume that you're drinking stuff that would knock out even Hagrid to get away from something." 

Remus knows that he's going too far, he knows perfectly well why Sirius continues to be this way, day in and day out. He just wants to hear him admit it though. He wants him to open up at least once, to do away with his attitude for even a moment.

"I'm not running from anything, Remus. I don't run."

"There's more to running away than the physical act itself."

The mood has dropped. It's awkward and stilted because no matter how much Sirius may protest, they all know of his increasing troubles at home. He hasn't told them as such, merely dropping offhand comments about his mother and father when he's feeling particularly foul, but that and the frostiness between Sirius and his brother, Regulus, is enough for them to have guessed more than he would want them to know.

Even Remus has to admit that he's overstepped his mark because Sirius has fallen unnaturally silent, sipping at his Firewhiskey, and it's all James can do to distract them both.

"So - er - have you seen all that stuff in the Prophet? About all those mysterious deaths?"

Sirius shrugs and looks out across the lake, elbows balanced on his knees and the bottle of Firewhiskey held so loosely between his hands that it may drop. It hurts Remus to see him like this, hurts twice as much knowing he's the reason why. He abandons his Butterbeer and unhinges himself from the tree, taking a few tentative steps closer to Sirius at the edge of the lake. He's close enough to dip the toes of his shoes in, to see his face reflected back up at him on the glassy surface; there's a stillness to the lake that is somehow not possible during the day. There's barely even a ripple.

"Mind if I join you?" Remus says, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets. It seems colder over here, he's more exposed.

James and Peter are observing quietly, their own drinks discarded on the grass. Remus can tell they're worried for the future of their friendship, these spats are coming more frequently. He wishes he knew why he can no longer control himself and keep his mouth shut around Sirius anymore, it's as if he has all this pent up frustration within him.

Sirius doesn't even glance up, he's tracing the rim of the bottle with his thumb over and over again, "Do what you want, Remus."

Remus crouches down after catching the encouraging nod from James. He's not sure where to start, which unnerves him because he's usually very good at dealing with this kind of thing. Sirius has the knack of throwing him off, even when he's not aware of it; he makes Remus forget everything he is. He makes him feel like a puzzle that's all out of order.

"It's impressive - becoming Animagi, I mean. I can't pretend it's not some seriously advanced magic but - "

Sirius lets out a breath of a laugh, humourless. "Going to tell me all the reasons why I shouldn't have bothered?"

"No. No, I - I just - I was going to say that I don't think I'm worth the hassle."

Sirius looks across at him, his eyes ablaze. "You really believe that, don't you?"

"I'm just saying it was illegal." Remus says unthinkingly, avoiding the question. "You're not registered and if you get caught - "

"Don't start with that again! I know what the repercussions are if we get caught, Remus." Sirius snaps, the air between them crackling. This isn't what Remus wanted when he came over, how does he always end up rubbing Sirius the wrong way?

"I know, I know. Look, we've gone off topic. I just wanted to say I'm sorry," he whispers, trying to ignore James and Peter listening in behind them. "I went too far with what I said, you were trying to have fun. I just struggle to know when to stop with you - and it's hard to leave you be when you act like that."

Sirius doesn't respond right away, only until he drains the last of the Firewhiskey from the bottle. Remus' mothering instincts kick in but he pushes them aside, knowing he's already at the limit concerning Sirius. Still, it's hard work to keep himself from smacking the bottle out of his hands altogether, empty or not.

"No, I get it," he says, lowering his voice so that only Remus can hear. He leans in close so that his lips clumsily brush against Remus' ear when he murmurs, a slur to his words. "You're right though. I am always running."

"I'm right? Really?" Remus hates that his voice sounds high.

"Come off it, Remus, you know you're always right."

If Remus expects anything more on the subject, he is sorely disappointed. Sirius pulls back and winks at him, showing all is forgiven, and pushes Remus so that he falls out of his crouch and onto his butt.

"Sit down properly. What did I say about making the place look untidy?" Sirius teases, laughing when Remus throws him a reproachful glare.

Remus doesn't grumble though. Sirius maintains a close proximity to him, his shoulder bumping into Remus' with every breath and chortle and fidget. Each time, a current seems to run through Remus' arm and down his fingers, so intense that he's surprised he can't see sparks shooting out of his fingertips. This sensation does more for him than Butterbeer ever could - he'd take this any day.

When did this happen? When did Remus' heart start from just looking at his friend? When did he begin to pay attention to every detail of Sirius, from the curl in his hair around his ears to the dull throb of a pulse beneath the skin on his neck? Even now, Sirius seems to be unknowingly determined to torment him, wrestling with the collar of his shirt to pop open the top couple of buttons.

Remus ducks his head, trying not to gawp.

"So what was that you said, James? About the Prophet and people dying?"

The relief is palpable in James' voice, that whatever was making the atmosphere uncomfortable has suddenly vanished, "People are dying all over. Going missing from their homes, from work. There's more and more lately. There's talk that it's him."

"Who? Lord what's-his-face?" Sirius ponders idly, inspecting his nails as if the subject has already bored him.

James fixes him with an amused look, "You know just as well as I do that he calls himself Voldemort."

"Yeah, but it's a stupid name, isn't it? Whatever he calls himself, he's still a great big bloody murderer."

"It's terrible, " Peter chimes, pulling the sleeves of his jumper over his hands. "I don't want to think about it. I don't want to think about death."

"Everyone dies, Pete." Sirius snaps. "The sooner you realise that, the better."

"Well, I don't want to die at all."

Sirius shakes his head and Remus can feel the movement in his bones, "That's not really your choice to make."

James intercedes, the mediator in everything. "What if you did though? How would you die, if you had a choice?"

Sirius doesn't even wait a heartbeat to reply. "I want to die in a blaze of glory - maybe go out in an epic duel or - or exploding on my motorbike." 

"Merlin," James laughs, propping himself up on his elbows. "Only you would want to go out like that."

"I deserve a grand exit, Prongs, it's in my very blood. Mark my words, I'm destined for a heroic ending; you'll all be sobbing about how noble and brave I was at my funeral, I want you all to have grovelling speeches prepared. How about you?"

"What?"

"Dying. I suppose you don't want to be riding alongside me in a sidecar as we fight dark wizards in the sky." Sirius says, taking aim at the tree with his wand and pretending to blast it into smithereens.

"No, that's all yours Sirius. I'd want to go - well, " James cuts off, sheepish.

"Go on!" Peter urges.

He takes off his glasses and blows a hair from one of the lenses. The world around him goes blurry, soft smudges of green and blue. "Well, I'd want to be happy. Go with loved ones around me."

"Boring," Sirius says bluntly. He twists a little to look at Remus, who is splitting a blade of grass between his nails. "How would you want to die, Moony? Or do you fear the great unknown?"

Remus contemplates for a minute and continues to shred the grass, "Spectacularly, I think."

"Oh yeah? How's that then?"

"In my sleep, as an old man."

Sirius snorts and jostles into him purposely, "Your sleep? That's not very spectacular, Remus."

Remus turns to his friends, focusing more on Sirius, his face dripping with shadows and moonlight reflected from the water. "Really? Away from any pain, leaving friends and family with the knowledge that at least there was no suffering. Yeah, I reckon dying peacefully is about as spectacular as you can get in this day and age, don't you think?"

Sirius appraises his friend, only a little bleary eyed. There's something about the way he's looking at him that makes Remus feel blown open, he's terrified that Sirius can read him as clearly as words on a page. He must discover something from his face because there's no mistaking that look when Sirius' jaw goes slack, or the way his eyes widen in understanding.

"I'm no good for you." Sirius is speaking in an undertone, words only for Remus' ears. Perhaps he doesn't intend even Remus to hear at all.

Remus doesn't even breathe. He's broken out into a cold sweat, he's praying that whatever Sirius has found out will be kept to himself. He doesn't know why he's so nervous but he's certainly not ready to find out. 

"Don't be absurd, Sirius - "

"You think I'm a better person than I am. You just don't know it yet."

"Shut up, Sirius. This is ridiculous. You're drunk and you have a tendency for the dramatic as it is; I expect the Firewhiskey isn't helping that."

After a long moment, Sirius tips his empty bottle at Remus, as if toasting him. "I bow before your wisdom, Moony the Magnificent. Long may you reign over my stupidity, until the stars die and the world shatters."

He speaks as if Remus has defeated him. So why does it still feel as if Remus is the one who has given something up?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to put it out there that there's mention of blood/scratches in the second half of this chapter - just in case!

Sixth Year 

"Just hurry up and tickle the pear, Sirius."

"Don't be such a tease."

Remus and Sirius are standing before a portrait of fruit, as perilously close to the Hufflepuff common room as Remus can bear.

"Do you want to be caught snooping around the dungeons by a Prefect or a teacher at this hour?"

"Remus, the only Prefect I concern myself over is you - or have you forgotten? Look, I'm just going to grab some snacks before we head down there, we've got a long night ahead."

Remus' Prefect pin glints upon his shirt, an insistent reminder that he's on the wrong side of this scenario. He had naively assumed that his status as a rule enforcer would encourage his friends to embrace maturity, even slightly. Instead, he found that it was he who would be taking the treacherous steps across the enemy line; enlightening them on the Prefect evening routes so that they can slip by unmolested, pretending not to hear when they sequestered to the corner of the common room discussing pranks and - to his deepest shame - looking the other way when they clashed horns with Severus Snape.

“Let’s just get this done.”

“With pleasure,” Sirius says with a courteous bow, reaching up to wiggle a finger over the painted pear.

Remus folds his arms across his chest as the pear starts to wriggle, a high giggle erupting unseen from the painting. Sirius cocks an eyebrow at Remus, taking hold of the green door handle where the pear once sat.

“Merlin, is that laugh creepy. How is it laughing? It’s a pear, Remus.”

“The wonders of magic, I suppose.”

“Yes but it has no mouth!” Sirius says with a shudder. "Where is it laughing from?!"

They come through to the kitchen, hanging brass pots and pans glinting in the light of Sirius’ wand tip. There is no sign of the house-elves, leaving the cavernous room eerily quiet and abandoned, the fire place bearing the last few sparks of dying embers.

Remus sweeps an arm out in front of him, addressing the absence. "Where do you imagine they all sleep? The house-elves?"

"Don't know, don't care." Sirius says, digging around the crates in the pantry, his pockets already bursting with pastries and fruit.

"Want anything?"

"No. Did you specifically request this part of the castle so you can come here and stuff your face?"

"Remus," Sirius grabs a handful of Ginger Newts from a nearby jar and turns back with an unconvincing disappointed shake of the head. "I'm offended you would even say that."

"I hope you can forgive me," Remus says flatly. "Alright, let's go before you empty out the entire kitchen."

They start out with good intentions, quietly creeping through the torch-lit corridors and ignoring the murmurs of disapproval from the portraits yet to fall asleep. They pass by a musician who reprimands them through song, leaping through paintings with his fiddle still clutched in his hand, until eventually he gets shouted back into his own frame by a displeased witch with severe eyebrows and a perilously unstable tower of potion bottles clattering behind her as he hops by.

Sirius regales Remus with story after preposterous story, dropping crumbs from biscuits along the floor as they walk. Remus likes Sirius best when he's caught up in himself like this; he has a way of making Remus feel as if he'd rather be nowhere else but with him, happy to spend endless nights exploring the school like it belongs to them, weaving uncharted new paths out of the air.

"Okay, so how about this one: I was sitting in Potions and Slughorn is just droning on and on, still trying to get me to join his stupid Slug Club. It's like he thinks I have nothing better to do than sit with him and a bunch of self-entitled dung-heads. Anyway, he moves away and he happens to leave an open jar of leeches right at my desk, can you believe that? You know me, I couldn't resist, so I start to levitate them over his head as he goes around the classroom but he hasn't got a clue, James is practically in his cauldron because he's laughing so hard and then, if you can even believe - "

Remus presses a light touch to Sirius' arm and points down the corridor, shushing him. "Sirius, look!"

They pause a beat to watch a flicker of light at the other end of the corridor, hearing limping footsteps growing louder, moving nearer to them. Remus' eyes go wide with panic, knowing they have no time to turn around.

"Filch!" Sirius whispers, taking the initiative by pushing Remus into the gap between a suit of armour and the wall. He swiftly follows, holding his breath and pressed flush against Remus as the caretaker prowls by, one gnarled hand holding out a bright lantern. When the glow of the swinging lamp disappears beyond the corner, Sirius rests his chin on Remus' shoulder and murmurs low into the shell of his ear. "There's a corridor that'll take us away from Filch if we turn back. We'll go the long way to the dungeons."

"Right. Back - sure." Remus sounds breathless and Sirius tries to lean away, thinking that he's crushing his friend, bracing a hand on the hilt of the sword strapped to the hip of the armour. Suddenly, there's a distinct sound of crumbling and the wall starts to give way behind them; Remus feels the sickly lurch in his stomach as he loses his footing, tipping them both backwards down a slope of slippery stone.

"OOMPH!"

They crash into - what they hope to be - water, Remus suffering the brunt of it. Sirius escapes with sodden sleeves and knees, sprawled out on top of Remus, the wind knocked out of him. It's so dark that they can't even see each others faces an inch away.

"Well, _fuck_." Sirius finally manages with a wheeze, treating the occasion with his favourite muggle swear. He clambers noisily off Remus and feels his way to Remus' arm, helping him to his feet. "I suppose this is a stroke of luck, good or otherwise. You decide."

"How would this be good in any situation?" comes Remus' voice, thoroughly disgruntled.

"We get to plot it on the Map if we make it out of here alive? We have successfully escaped Filch?" Sirius suggests unhelpfully.

"Oh, well, in that case. Thank god we've avoided a week's worth of detention and get to perish down here instead. This is just typical." Remus sighs heavily, lifting sodden material away from his chest. "I'm soaked through."

"Could be worse," Sirius offers lightly, fumbling in the dark for his wand. "It could be the school's sewage system."

"I'm not even going to think about that. I really hope that it isn't that."

Sirius guffaws, "We could never tell James. _Lumos_."

They peer about, finding themselves in a flooded corridor. There's nothing here save a few empty portrait frames and a rather ugly looking statue of a merperson brandishing a spear and a beheaded grindylow.

Sirius hitches a thumb at it, wiggling his eyebrows in delight. "Reckon that's a true likeness or do you think they got in some poor apprentice to carve it as practice?"

Remus ignores him and looks up at where they fell through, resting a hand against the slippery stone. His hair is plastered to his face and he blinks water from his eyes, able to make out thin cracks of light where the secret door is concealed.

"I guess we can't get back up that way. Do you think this is the passage James was talking about?"

"I don't think so. He said there was a tapestry depicting Gwendoline of Lancashire being dunked by muggles after they accused her of being a witch - they were right, of course, but they didn't need to know that." Sirius explains, holding his wand aloft to get a better look around. "If it was, you'd think he'd have been kind enough to mention the door is triggered by grabbing onto that sword."

"What happened to her?"

Sirius stoops down into a crouch and lets water trickle through his fingers, careful to keep the tails of his shirt dry, "Who? Gwen? She swallowed a load of Gillyweed before the dunking, faked her drowning so the muggles thought they'd accused an innocent and that she must have been a harmless old lady after all. When it came to burying her, the body had vanished. That changed their minds again."

"Did they ever find her after that?"

Sirius barks out a laugh, shakes his head. "Nah, she ended up living the rest of her long life in some quiet Cornish fishing village. No one bothered her again." He notices Remus starting to shiver, "You better dry that now, you're looking a bit pale. The last thing you need is to catch a cold from being down here."

Remus throws Sirius a disparaging look but obeys regardless, shucking off the waterlogged shirt to hang it from a nearby frame, long abandoned by its subject. Remus makes a jet of hot air erupt from his wand, careful to keep a safe distance between it and the shirt lest it catch fire and burn the entire school down.

Sirius leans in with his lit wand tip, squinting at Remus' bare arms in amazement.

"You're practically see through, Moony. You're not a by-product of a miscast Vanishing spell, are you?"

Remus' veins run green, visible through his skin like ink on thin parchment. Sirius reaches out to trace a finger up and down the length of Remus' arm, snaking from the inside of his shoulder all the way down to his wrist and back again with the lightest of touches.

It's rare to see this much of Remus; he spends every day bundled and wrapped and covered up in long sleeves and wool, even though he tends to run on the warm side. The last time Sirius had seen Remus so exposed, he'd been a bit more preoccupied with all the scars.

Remus finds he doesn't mind this - possible slow death aside. In fact, he wishes they could stay here instead of scouring the rest of the school in the middle of the night for a passageway James had sworn he'd seen once before in second year. Remus should never have let this map idea get so out of hand, he's been talked and bribed into these late night excursions more than once.

"Wouldn't that be something? A translucent teenage werewolf. I'm sorry to inform you that this is just how my skin is. Maybe all those transformations have stretched it too thin somehow? It must have some effect, fur always ripping out from under it." Remus muses, flipping over a sleeve to dry the other side. "What's that? Is that an apple?"

Sirius grins sheepishly, wiping the apple he'd pulled from his cloak against his trousers to dust off some lint.

"Got to eat sometime, Moony."

"Some more than others. Didn't you devour three pumpkin pasties on our way down here?"

They spend the next few minutes in silence, the passage filled only by the sound of gentle hissing as the wand does its work and a rhythmic dripping of water. Neither of them speak again until Remus pulls on his now mostly-dry shirt.

"Remus?"

"Yeah?"

"What...what is it like?" Sirius says haltingly, fiddling with the stalk on the untouched apple.

Remus doesn't have to seek confirmation to know what Sirius is asking. He just knows. The question throws him off balance, never has it been so candidly put into the open before; his parents have always been careful to skate around the problem - his problem - in fear of upsetting him. For all the pitying glances and worried murmurs, for how present it is, no one has ever dared ask what Remus goes through every full moon.

"It's a bit like being sick," Remus begins, noticing the sudden rigidity in Sirius' shoulders. He didn't think Remus would answer. 

"Except it's a hundred times worse. You're hot and freezing at the same time, sometimes I can't tell if I'm shaking from that or from the nerves. That's not even the worst of it though. Every bone feels like it's made of glass, like it could splinter into a thousand pieces at any moment, and skin - "

Remus breaks off to hold a hand in front of his face, staring at it with such intensity that Sirius wonders if Remus remembers he's even still there.

" - skin is tender to the touch, like the blood in your veins is boiling and burning right through it. And every time you're terrified that you'll die from the pain of it and you start to want to, just to be out of your misery. Before you know it, everything is white hot but you can't process what's happening because your brain is changing, your conscience shrinking away to nothing, and suddenly - you're a wolf. As if it's always been that way, there's so little human left in you. Just like magic." Remus adds with an air of sarcasm. He glances up at Sirius' gawking face, solemn. "There'd be no appealing to my humanity, it's gone during that time. I'd kill you if I saw you, I wouldn't be able to stop myself. Wouldn't want to stop myself either - until the morning."

"How do you do it?" Sirius whispers, voice so soft that it doesn't even pick up an echo. "How do you get through it?"

"Truthfully? I take a shower when I'm recovered enough."

This brings some of the gleam back into Sirius' eyes. "You shower?"

"I try to imagine that the water washes me clean; every drop dissolves a bad memory, something that will keep me awake at night. I try to imagine that it's all running off of me and down the plug hole, leaving me bare and human again. Purged of it, I guess."

"Huh." Sirius finally takes an animalistic chunk out of the apple and passes it to Remus, spraying spit and juice everywhere when he speaks. "Does it work?"

"Only for a little while. Not really." Remus confesses, holding the apple up to his mouth, pausing before the bite. "Maybe it's not helping at all. Maybe it's only helping me avoid things temporarily."

"I think you need a new distraction, your current one isn't any good."

"Oh really? What do you suggest?"

Sirius doesn't make a joke, like Remus anticipates. He doesn't actually do anything at all besides watch Remus with wary eyes, like he can't decide whether he should voice his thoughts or not. There's an edge to him that Remus isn't used to and it makes him feel nauseous and giddy, like they're on the brink of a change.

Remus takes the matter into his own hands, figuring that if Sirius is torn between what he wants to say and what he thinks shouldn't be said, then it's nothing he's prepared to hear for now.

"How about you? What does it feel like being an Animagus?"

Sirius is incapable of concealing anything, his face quick to betray him in the flick of a wand; hurt flashes across his features at Remus' change in subject, forehead crinkling and eyebrows pulled together, and Remus instantly feels as if he's made the wrong move in a game he didn't know he was playing.

"It feels right." Sirius gamely obliges with a sigh, setting whatever he is feeling aside. He snatches the apple back from Remus' loose grip and twists his wrist, looking at the teeth marks Remus has left in the skin of the fruit. "It's like some invisible extension of myself, just hiding beneath the surface, as if I've had it there all along and I just didn't know how to access it. It gets easier all the time - so easy that I worry there'll be a black dog at my cauldron or in my seat at dinner if I sneeze hard enough. But...it's comfort. It's comforting. I feel free when I'm a dog. Is that weird?" he appeals earnestly.

"I don't think it's weird at all. I'm quite envious of you, Sirius."

"Don't be." Sirius says darkly, casting about for something to take them away from this conversation. He nudges the toe of his shoe against the statue of the merperson and jerks his head at it. "Funny, isn't it? Keeping this junk down here. The stone is eroding."

"I expect it's an old bit of the castle that fell out of use," Remus says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out their - slightly damp - unfinished prototype map, moving closer to Sirius to point out a section. "See how it leads a shortcut to here? It's probably a bit too close to the lake, which explains why there's even a merperson statue here to begin with. There's a leak in the ceiling somewhere so they must have abandoned it. Spellwork can only go so far when you're dealing with mother nature, I suppose."

"Probably best to cross it off then, maybe stick a warning on the map: 'DO NOT USE UNLESS WILLING TO EMERGE WITH WET SOCKS', or in your case, a wet shirt."

"Hilarious. We better move on if we're going to find a way out of this passage. I wonder if James and Peter are having any luck."

"Are you kidding me? McGonagall is probably rattling that biscuit tin of hers at them as we speak, they have no subtlety about them." 

"And you do, do you?"

"Remus," Sirius gasps, splashing through the corridor with gleeful abandonment. "I'm as subtle as they come."

***

It's hard to tell what time it is but Sirius knows that sunrise is close. The wolf in the next room cries in agony, and the stag, rat and dog usually take it as their cue to prepare to leave, knowing that the moments before the dawn are always the worst for their friend, the minutes in which he never wants them around.

Sirius doesn't know what makes this night different but he stays. Generally, they've had a firm agreement that they should be gone before Remus becomes a boy once more but Sirius waves the others on - in his own unique, canine way - and remarkably, they do as he says without question; albeit with a curious tilt of antlers from James.

He waits in the grey stillness of the Shrieking Shack as low whining becomes faltering sobs, as his friend re-emerges from beneath shedded fur and claws into a small, trembling shape huddled into the corner, wedged between the bed and the wall.

"W-why - are you - still - here?" Remus breathes, struggling to keep his voice level, keeping his back to the large black dog. He's so tired; his eyes feel bruised, the stinging air smarts and draws unbidden tears.

Sirius transforms in an instant, effortlessly smooth, and grapples with the spare cloak Remus keeps hidden under a loose floorboard for these mornings. Not that Sirius has ever been in need of it until now - even Sirius, who has no qualms about nudity, feels he might be stepping over Remus's boundaries if he insisted on walking around naked.

"I don't know," Sirius confesses, shrugging the cloak on, pulling it around him. He reaches back into the hiding place, comes up with a large turtleneck jumper and loose fitting brown trousers, half a bar of Honeydukes chocolate and then a small box containing a sturdy looking glass phial. "What's this?"

Remus barely glances over his shoulder, still shuddering back into his human frame of mind, his wiry muscles convulsing under frail, aching skin. Everything feels loose on him still, not quite the right fit.

"Powdered s-silver and - and dittany. For the cuts. I sometimes - put it on - before Madam Pomfrey - arrives. Stops - the - bleeding."

He doesn't offer any more information, only further hunches into himself, one shoulder braced against the wall. He's gathered his legs into a neat little parcel, pulled up to his chest, shivering arms tying himself up like a bow. Rivets of blood dribble down the expanse of his back, crisscrossing a dark map against white, goosepimpled flesh.

They'd been detained at school, Remus left to his own wolf devices for far too long. He'd already turned on himself by the time they arrived at the Shack.

"Let me help you, I'll clean you up - "

"No! That's too - too much."

"Remus," Sirius says brusquely, pulling the stopper out of the phial with a defiant pop. "You're going to bleed out, you're in no shape to do this yourself. I don't think you can reach your back on your own right now. And take this chocolate too. You look like you've seen the Grim."

Remus doesn't need much convincing, the small puddles of blood forming around him seem to have decided the matter. With grim resignation, he lets his head drop down to his knees, not once moving to look at Sirius - he doesn't seem to want to.

"Good." Sirius mutters encouragingly, coming close to Remus and taking care not to kneel in the blood. "Good. So - uh - how do I - ?"

"Pat it onto the wounds, " Remus whispers, tightening the grip on himself. The cuts open up a little more, oozing fresher blood. "It's the only thing that makes it stop."

There are so many scratches, Sirius doesn't know where to start. For a brief few seconds, he just stares at Remus' back, quietly shocked into immobility. It's a harrowing sight up close and Sirius feels a little green at the thought of Remus doing this every month. He should have stayed much sooner than this.

"There's a bit of a nasty one right in the middle of your back. I'm going to start here, okay?"

Remus doesn't reply by way of words, rather resolutely stiffens in anticipation of the application. Sirius almost pulls back when he hears Remus omit a low whine as he first dabs the solution onto the cut but Remus waves him on urgently.

"The sooner it's over, the better."

"Just make sure you eat that chocolate."

And so, Sirius steadily makes his way scratch after scratch across Remus' torn up back, following them like constellations in the night sky. Sirius speaks softly, repeating an apology over and over again with every jolt and intake of breath from Remus.

He doesn't know how long they have until Madam Pomfrey gets here and he finds he doesn't even care; explanations and reprimands are so far from his mind as he patches up his best friend and hears the restrained cries from his mouth as he administers this pain for the greater good.

Eventually, he reaches the last mark on his back, one at the nape of Remus' neck. It's not too deep, a little cleaner than some of the others, and Sirius taps the silver and dittany solution out onto the pad of his thumb, cupping his hand in the crook between Remus' neck and shoulder.

Remus shudders when Sirius' thumb swipes slow and gentle across the scratch, so violent and sudden that Sirius has to ask.

"You okay?"

"No." comes the reply, the single syllable bearing every ounce of the strain Remus is feeling.

"Want me to stop?"

"...no." It sounds like an admission but neither of them acknowledges it in respect of the situation. It can be addressed another time.

Sirius nods, realises Remus can't see him do that, carefully squeezes the shoulder he's still grasping; Remus seems to be holding his breath, Sirius can count every rib on his right side. It's only now that he notices he's kneading Remus' shoulder, trying to soothe away the tension there.

"I'm going to need you to turn around, Moony."

"Pass me those trousers?"

"Remus, I've already seen you naked - "

"If it's all the same to you, I'd still like them. Please. And don't look for a moment."

Sirius obeys, looking about the room as he listens to Remus clumsily climb into the trousers. It's a pitiful sight, this room, which Sirius considers to be a pretty remarkable thing knowing that Dumbledore had this house built specifically for Remus's use only a few years prior. He has to say it, Dumbledore was nothing short of thorough furnishing the whole place with antique furniture for Remus to tear up, just to keep it believable if anyone did manage to get a glimpse inside. He remembers the stories, passing rumours he'd heard; a violent poltergeist, they say...

"Alright, you can turn back around..."

Remus sways on the spot and Sirius has to rush forward to catch him, their bodies crashing together with a comical slap. Sirius tries not to disturb any of the wounds on Remus' body, letting out a breathy laugh as they wrestle towards the bed, a mess of limbs.

"Here, this'll be easier."

He lets Remus flop down onto the lumpy mattress, relocates the bottle of solution left abandoned on the floor. There are fewer cuts on Remus' front, just a few across his stomach, several thin scratches on his arms, one slicing through his collarbone. Sirius climbs up onto the bed beside him and doesn't bring up the fact Remus can probably deal with these ones on his own.

"I wish I'd thought to bring you some fresh chocolate. I didn't think it would be this - uh."

"You can say it, Sirius. I don't mind."

Sirius pushes the hair from his eyes, accidentally smearing some silver and dittany across his forehead. He looks at Remus, apologetic. "I didn't think it would be this bad."

"I know," Remus says quietly, watching Sirius press surprisingly nimble fingers to his arm. "I guess I was still trying to keep some aspect of it hidden from you all."

"I just want to understand."

"Sirius," Remus reaches up and grabs Sirius' hand, stopping his light touch as it reaches his shoulder. Sirius' skin is ice on his fingertips and he finds he can't look at him. He doesn't want to look at his own bloody knuckles either though. He settles for Sirius' ear. "Sirius, you'll never understand what this is like. I wouldn't want you to."

"But - "

In that moment, kneeling over him on the bed and swathed up in a borrowed cloak, unkempt hair sticking in every other direction, Sirius appears as young as his years. He keeps his fingers on Remus and stares down at them, breathing heavily, eyes shining brighter than usual.

"It's okay that you don't understand, Sirius."

"I just thought - that maybe - if I could, you wouldn't - dread it so much. That it wouldn't be so bad, if you thought you weren't alone."

Remus tightens his hold on Sirius' wrist. "I know I'm not alone, Padfoot. You're here with me, aren't you?"

Sirius pulls his hand back like he's been burnt, drawing it into his chest. He clambers off the bed, forgetting he's clad in next to nothing, forgetting his dignity, forgetting everything that threatens them outside of this dust-ridden shack.

"It's not the same thing, is it? It's not good enough."

Remus sits up, groans at the pain of his bones, and swallows it down. "I beg your pardon, it certainly is good enough. It's more than I could have dreamt of, surely you know that?"

"What good is it being your friend if I can't even - if I can't get my brain to just - comprehend what - "

"Sirius, would you stop being such a petulant child and come back over here?" Remus retorts coolly, patting the bed next to him. Sirius comes after a minute, dropping onto the mattress. "You've done enough. You've undergone an extreme magical transformation to keep me company - it's completely mental! You can become a dog, Sirius, and for what? Me. You and James and Peter did it for me. Just knowing you're going to be with me when I'm a wolf, even when I won't be able to acknowledge it, that's enough for me. It should be enough for you, too."

"I just think - "

"Sirius. I'm telling you, I'm happier now than I've ever been. The only way you'd understand what this is like is if you were like me and - Sirius, I swear to god, if you ask me to bite you I'll use the remaining strength I have left to shove you off this bed."

Sirius holds up his hands in surrender, "I wasn't gonna, I swear."

"Yeah, right."

Sirius shuffles near again, watching Remus lower himself back down to pillow his head on a folded arm, face angled towards him. 

"Relax, Remus. You never relax."

"Relaxing with you around is like relaxing next to a slumbering dragon." Remus snorts, only half joking.

They both know he's finished tending to the wounds but Remus doesn't move away when Sirius reaches out, fingers outstretched. Sirius won't break his gaze. Remus doesn't even move when Sirius draws a line from one freckled shoulder to the next, sliding across his collarbone, navigating the scratches with stooping dips and up again. Remus' eyes drift shut but his breathing is shallow.

"Relaxed now?"

Remus' breath hitches as he lets out a laugh, "Far from it."

"I was being selfish just. I realise the ridiculousness of you having to console me at a time like this." Sirius says, still moving a finger against Remus' skin.

Remus cracks an eye open at that, a slit of hazel peering up. "Sirius, you're in a constant state of needing to be talked down. This is nothing new to me. I hadn't given it a thought."

"It's still - you know - a bit tactless of me."

Sirius is still tender with youth; the sweetness in his expression has not yet entirely soured. Remus is always worrying that his experiences of whatever trouble was brewing at home will ruin that naivety in him earlier than it ought, he does his best to dispel any shadows within Sirius if he can.

"Yes, it was. I hope you'll give this kind of behaviour more thought in the future, spare me of your emotional impulses." Remus says playfully. "Really, the world doesn't revolve around you, you know, Padfoot."

Sirius catches on, matching Remus' tone. "Would it even be worth living if it didn't?"

It could be so simple. Sirius isn't at all sure what he'll do next as he stares at Remus' smiling lips. It could be easy to lean down, meet that grin with his own mouth, find the taste of Honeydukes chocolate and surprise there. Seconds stretch out into an indefinite length as Sirius can do nothing but look. He wants to; he thinks he's going to - that is, until he opens his big mouth instead.

"We were born for the night, you and I."

Remus blinks his eyes wide open at the words, mentally shaking himself out of the moment. "I suppose you think that's comforting?"

"It should be. We belong here, we - "

Remus sits up and slides from the mattress, seeming to remember where he is and what is happening. He picks up the jumper and turns back to Sirius, raising a dubious eyebrow. 

"So you think I deserve this then? You think I should be bleeding and on my knees in a derelict house?" says Remus with force, the hesitancy in his movements counteracting the heat of his words. Sirius doesn't look away as he lowers the jumper over his head and winces, exacerbating his point.

Sirius levers himself up on his elbows and tips his head back, staring at the holey canopy above. He knows he has said the wrong thing. "No, of course not! I'm just saying, you might not like it but the fact you're dealing with this every month - you're strong, Remus. You have to be to do this. I don't think anyone deserves this but you have what it takes to live with it. You were made for it - we both are."

"I don't think I was made for this, Sirius. Nobody is made for this. Everything I am is because of it, it's all learnt - it's not - it wasn't who I was."

Sirius has no time to reply, they hear the hurried click of heels reverberating up the rickety stairs.

"Madam Pomfrey! Hide!" Remus hisses, motioning for him to get under the bed.

Sirius has only just wedged himself out of sight when Madam Pomfrey marches in, a thick blanket in one hand and a chocolate frog in the other.

"Ah, Lupin. I see you're ready." she says crisply, securing the blanket around his shoulders and wrapping him into it so tightly Remus can barely move. "Do eat that frog all at once, please. I know you let that other one get away last month because you wanted to save it but I can give you more, you know. In fact, I really think I should start bringing whole bars along, you're looking more and more peaky every time."

"Okay, Madam Pomfrey. Sorry." Remus mumbles, letting her steer him out of the room, making no mention that he's already consumed half a bar of chocolate. Sirius catches a glance from him before he disappears out of the doorway, cheeks faintly pink with embarrassment; he gives Remus a little salute and gets an eye roll in return.

Sirius stays that way for a while, longer than he has to, squashed beneath the sunken mattress with his face covered in dirt and sweat, blood crusted under his fingernails, naked besides a musty old cloak. He can get back to the castle through a number of passageways they've discovered in their quest to create the Marauders Map, he doesn't concern himself over that detail. 

He remembers the way Remus sounded when he told him he wasn't okay, the way his voice dropped when he said he wanted him to continue, how he didn't brush him off when he traced a line across his collarbone; Sirius is warmed by it, he's hopeful. 

For now, he stays and he thinks.


	6. Chapter 6

Sixth Year 

"This is ridiculous, it's too much." Remus huffs, extinguishing the small fire with a steady stream of water. "This is never going to work."

Sirius and Remus are huddled over the expanse of parchment for their (currently) fourth trial of the Marauder's Map, a name James is resoundingly pleased with. Remus raps his wand over the Map, vanishing the charred marks and repairing the holes. 

They've taken to working in the common room into the early hours of the morning, dedicating their Friday nights to the trying task of actually getting the Map to function.

"Where's your optimism, Remus?"

Sirius leans around him and pinches the sodden parchment between his fingers, letting droplets of water spatter onto some of the books they've acquired - so many books that it would be possible to build a small fortress with them.

"Fine. I'm pretty positive that this won't work." Remus snaps, shoving Sirius' arm away from the books. "Watch where you're holding that, you're ruining the pages."

"You're overthinking it. You're putting too much force into the movement, it has to be fluid - you're spelling the ink itself, remember, you have to emulate liquid." Sirius laughs as he says it, as if simply wanting something to work will make it so.

Remus almost tells him he can go ahead and try it himself then if he knows so much about it but instead displays a remarkable show of self restraint.

"My wand movement is just fine, thank you." Remus sniffs. "The problem is that we're essentially doing the opposite of the Unplottable spell. We're trying to plot too much in one place and it's just layer after layer; it just sets the whole thing on fire because the parchment is holding too much magic."

"We're almost there, Remus. We've got it all drawn out, we've walked over this entire castle and its passages at least thirty times. I swear I saw Dumbledore move a bit before it caught fire."

This is where the problem lay. They'd managed to successfully charm a handful of corresponding dots for the castle's occupants into moving accordingly to match their real life counterpart; James had followed Kingsley Shacklebolt all afternoon the week before to make sure it was working correctly, laughing with delight at their achievement even when Kingsley had finally had enough during a trip to the bathroom and demanded to know why James had been tailing him.

Remus massages the headache prickling at his temples, glancing out the window at the moon. Sirius follows his gaze, pity that Remus would kill him for winning out.

"You know, let's just stop for the night. It's getting late."

"What happened to being almost there?"

"The Map can wait. We have other nights to fix it."

"It's because it's the full moon tomorrow, isn't it?"

"No! Well, yes." Sirius admits sheepishly. He starts stacking the books into a tower, marking their useful pages with scraps of Remus' chocolate bar wrapper. "You look dead on your feet, Remus. You should be getting rest. James would have taken over your turn this week, he wouldn't have minded."

Remus drops his head onto the table and squeezes his eyes shut. "I like the distraction..."

"I know but there's distracting yourself and then there's running yourself into the ground. Anyway, you get cranky this close to the moon, I'm worried you're going to bite my head off any minute now.."

"I wouldn't bite," Remus mumbles into the table top. "...much."

Sirius laughs and lightly touches Remus' head, "Come on, let's go. I'll grab the books."

The next morning, they wake to find Remus' bed empty and Sirius' heart sinks. Hospital Wing day. The day leading up to the full moon is always tough for Remus and, by extension, Sirius. When Remus can't convincingly hide the toll that lycanthropy is taking on his body, he'll vanish to the Hospital Wing for the day; they're not allowed to visit him when this happens, Madam Pomfrey makes sure of that. It leaves Sirius anxious for his friend, knowing Remus has nothing to take his mind off the forthcoming night or the creeping dread of anticipation that will make him sick to his stomach.

Sirius already starts to think ahead to that evening, switching to autopilot to get through the day. It falls on James to shunt Sirius between classes, to kick him under tables when a teacher asks him for an answer or snap his fingers in front of Sirius' face when he catches the glazed look in his eyes.

He barely notices anything around him beside the progression of the sun in the sky; Sirius doesn't hear the gaggle of girls daring each other in hysterical laughter to talk to him when he's wandering aimlessly in the library or watch in horrified curiosity when James dares Peter to cram ten meatballs into his mouth at dinner.

When the sun is setting and they've been holed up in a cosy corner of the common room for dragging hours playing Exploding Snap, he can't take it anymore. Sirius feigns wanting to stretch his legs and slips out of the portrait hole. James and Peter don't see him leave. He's thankful for that; James would have stopped him, he would have beckoned him back to the table using Remus's name as an incentive to return and it would have worked, like it does every single time.

The cool air outside the hot and busy Gryffindor Tower is greatly welcome and Sirius turns his face up to feel it on his cheeks. The castle corridors are empty, the light outside the windows long gone. Sirius knows that its past curfew and he shouldn't be away from the common room, that he risks being caught by Filch on patrol but he can't stand the noise in there, he can't stand the confinement of the stone walls of his dormitory on nights like this.

Sirius has never liked being cooped up ever since he was a young child, of having to lock himself away in his musty room at Grimmauld Place to avoid his family; they were never a communicative sort of family and Sirius had long started to suspect that their beliefs weren't considered the norm in the rest of the wizarding world, that his parents got away with their prejudice because of their wealth and generous donations to prominent establishments.

Without the rush of other students running to and from classes, Sirius quite enjoys the way the sound of his footsteps seem to jump ahead of him. It almost distracts him from his worried thoughts of Remus, already removed from the castle by Madam Pomfrey and stolen away to the tunnel concealed by the Whomping Willow in preparation for the full moon. If Sirius shuts his eyes, he can picture his friend quite clearly, alone and jumpy in the abandoned house in Hogsmeade which Dumbledore had built solely for his transformations; Sirius has heard the locals give it a name, remarking in animated whispers of poltergiest activity within, of the unnatural screams coming from the seemingly deserted building. The Shrieking Shack, they call it. Remus liked that very much, even laughed when Sirius told him.

Sirius knows the time is growing closer, cautiously stepping out onto the moving staircase to head back to the seventh floor, when he comes face to face with Severus Snape.

Snape is laden down with armfuls of books, no doubt sneaking back to his own common room after an evening trip to the library. The sight of Sirius before him has an instant effect; a momentary flash of surprise, quickly overridden by unchecked hatred. The books in his arms jostle, hindering him. He can't reach for his wand without it being obvious.

"Well, well, well..." Sirius begins, his grin not reaching his eyes. "Pressing that greasy face of yours into some more of those poor books again?"

"I'm amazed you're even able to identify a book without direction, Black."

Sirius narrows his eyes and mounts the next step, "Get out of my way, Snivellus."

Revenge sings in his blood, it always has; it calls to him, strumming with every heartbeat, humming through his body. He continues to wonder why he wasn't placed in Slytherin five years ago, that the Sorting Hat had searched within his brain and soul and looked beyond it all to see a Gryffindor at heart.

Sirius is no ordinary school boy with a grudge and a score to settle, his genetic make up won't allow discrepancies to go unchecked. Everything to him becomes personal, call it an inherited Black family trait. Whatever Severus Snape may say, he made himself a marked man the second he stepped in Sirius' way.

"And why should I do that, Black?"

"Because I'm telling you to."

What is it Remus always says to him? That his stubborn pig-headedness will be the end of him? He recalls a conversation they once had after Sirius had got back from his punishment with Filch for cursing a Slytherin of no consequence in the corridor.

_"It's almost as if you're in love with it." Remus said grimly._

__

__

_"With what?"_

__

__

_"Duelling."_

__

__

_"Honestly, Remus."_

__

__

_"No. Really," Remus had insisted. "I've never seen you come alive quite like when you're duelling. It's like a mask cracks open or something. I bet your pulse quickens the moment you face an opponent."_

__

__

_"It's called adrenaline, Remus."_

__

__

_Remus had appraised him and dismissed his words within the same breath. "I don't think so. Not with you."_

And maybe Remus is right, maybe he is in love with the rush of a fight. Maybe he never knows when to turn away from trouble. He's never liked the way Remus can pin him down in a glance, that he can so effectively put Sirius' faults into unadorned, direct words. Perhaps he should give his friend more credit for calling him out.

"I think I'll stay right where I am, I'm in no rush. You, on the other hand..."

"I don't have time for this, Snivellus. If you want to keep your nose disproportionately large and in one piece - though I can't imagine why - I suggest you move."

On any other run in, Sirius wouldn't hesitate. He'd be willing to land himself a few weeks of detention if it meant taking Snape down with him, if it meant wiping that smirk off his face for even a minute but Sirius can't chance that on this particular night. Short of hexing him - which would bring about every teacher and Prefect in a three floor radius - Sirius can't think of a way to get Snape to budge. Sirius knows that despite the coolness of his tone, Snape is just as eager to move on as he is; every second they stay in this stand off is another second closer to being caught. 

"You're not the king of this castle, Black."

"Funny, I thought you were the resident jester."

Snape resorts to provocation, "Everybody knows about you. They say that you're the biggest disappointment in the entire ancestry of your family tree. Your brother has some fascinating stories to tell; it seems as if you're one, tiny Gryffindor step away from being no better than a Mudblood. You won't be able to hide behind your Pureblood name much longer."

"I have no brother."

"Oh dear, have I touched a nerve, Black?"

"No but I'm about to do a lot worse to you if you don't shift."

"We both know you're bluffing. You wouldn't dare."

"Oh really? Since when have I ever bluffed, Snape?" Sirius snarls, currently bluffing for his life.

Snape doesn't take the bait, simply readjusts the books in his arms so that they won't topple. Confident, even with no teachers or witnesses around. Sirius must be worse at lying than he thinks.

"You know what you are, Black?"

Sirius leans against the banister of the stairs and fakes a yawn, "By all means, enlighten me on your way down."

"You're a coward." Snape says, triumphant when he sees Sirius' face turn chalk white. "You're scared of your family. You're scared that they'll reject you because of where you ended up but you're more scared of what people think of you. I bet it tears you up inside, knowing you're the most pitiful Black to ever disgrace wizardkind."

Sirius' voice is deadly soft, "If you think I give a damn about what any of those stuck up, self indulgent - "

"Or maybe you're scared that your ties with them run too deeply? That you'll forever be known as a Black, that it'll tarnish your pretty little Gryffindor image? Maybe I am right, Black. I bet you've been pretending your whole life. Pathetic."

Sirius takes another step forward. "You - you - "

"What's wrong? Getting bored of our chit chat so soon?"

Perhaps if he had an ounce of restraint like Remus, he might have stepped down and allowed Snape to pass before him, though it would no doubt have caused him a great deal of bitterness. Maybe if he were a little more like Peter in this situation, he would have swallowed his pride and skulked off until Snape had finally wandered away, in the pursuit of avoiding any conflict. James would have jinxed Snape the moment he set eyes on him and forgotten about it the minute after. 

Sirius is not his friends though, he's altogether more ruthless, less forgiving. If Snape wants to stick his nose where it doesn't belong, Sirius knows just the place for it to go sniffing. The words come out before he even consults his brain. 

"I wonder, Snivellus; seeing as you claim to be an expert on so much that doesn't concern you, do you know what's beneath the Whomping Willow?"

***

It's late afternoon and the Hospital Wing is deserted, save for a single occupant in the bed closest to the doors. Remus stirs, finding himself lying beneath the crisp white sheets, tucked in so tight that he can barely move; it is for the best considering how much his muscles are screaming even from being still, he doesn't need to imagine the pain he will feel when he sits up. Remus and pain are old friends.

Remus sucks in a breath, something constricting his chest - bandages, perhaps - as his lungs fill with air but he's in too much of a panic to think much on it at the moment. He's certain that Dumbledore will soon be walking through those doors to tell him he's expelled.

Dumbledore wouldn't even be angry, he would talk to Remus in that gentle, pacifying tone of his to deliver the bad news, which will make everything so much worse. Remus is already thinking up and excusing a hundred different reasons as to why he should remain at Hogwarts, playing over each of the scenarios in turn and winding up in the same place: him, alone on the train back to London, his wand snapped in two, never to see James, Sirius and Peter again, in limbo between the muggle and wizarding worlds with every passing full moon.

Being a werewolf isn't easy. You lose your mind but not your senses, stuck in a body that moves without need of command, directed by smell and sight and sound. When the full moon comes about, it's like Remus is both himself and the wolf, except his human side only really catches up with the events of the night when he's naked and awake in the Shrieking Shack the following morning, his brain painfully clear and free to wallow over what he is.

He knows now that Severus Snape was in the tunnel leading to the Shrieking Shack last night. He knows that he could have killed him.

He thinks he can hear murmuring on the other side of the door, Madam Pomfrey's snappy voice distinguishable even in hushed whispers. James Potter's own voice comes out clear as a bell, as upbeat and teasing as usual, even as he pushes his way into the Hospital Wing, followed by Peter and a furious Madam Pomfrey.

"We won't be long, Poppy, just want to see our chum - ah, there he is! Remus, tell Poppy here that we always come to see you. She should know, she's been trying to get us banned for months now."

"Now really, Potter - "

"We brought you some chocolate frogs - "

"- you can't keep barging in here like you own the place - "

" - Pete ate half of them on the walk up - "

" - I'll be having words with Professor Dumbledore about this, mark my words - "

"- but I managed to salvage some before it was too late - "

"- and you're constantly disrupting my patient's recovery!"

"Oh! I almost forgot!" James says, turning to the red faced Madam Pomfrey and offering a box out to her. "Chocolate Cauldrons. I know you're partial. Consider it a thank you for looking after Remus so diligently."

Madam Pomfrey appraises him with narrowed eyes, her lips pressed tight into a stern line, before snatching the chocolates from his grasp and hugging them to her chest.

"You have five minutes," she says curtly, stalking off to her office. "Not a second longer, Potter!"

"You're too kind!" James calls after her, falling into the seat beside Remus' bed. "Really, an angel amongst men!"

"That was shameless, James." Remus tells him, watching Peter struggle to climb onto the bed next to him. "Really. Even for you."

"What can I say, I'm naturally charming."

"Since we're on the topic of massive egos, where's Sirius? I - he didn't come last night." 

Remus doesn't mention that neither did James or Peter but he'd been hoping for Sirius to stay with him again that morning. When he found himself in the Shrieking Shack alone, he couldn't help the crushing disappointment he felt.

James and Peter exchange a peculiar look. Remus swears he can almost see worry on both of their faces but he can't begin to think why, which only causes him to start panicking all over again.

"I expect he wants to be here but something pressing is keeping him."

"What do you mean, _something pressing_? Sirius always comes."

"It's just he can't - uh - exactly get out of it."

"James." Remus says shortly. "James, what aren't you telling me?"

"He's in a meeting."

"With who?!"

"Well, Sirius is with Dumbledore...and Snape."

Remus' brain clunks into action, automatically putting two and two together and wildly hoping he's jumping to conclusions - terrible, awful conclusions. He doesn't want to ask but he loses all control of his mouth, which starts to run of its own accord. 

"Why would he be with Dumbledore and Snape?"

"Dumbledore wanted to talk to me earlier too, but he let me go when he heard my side of the story." James begins hesitantly, fidgeting in his seat. "You see, Sirius...Sirius and Snape had a, uh, an altercation of sorts yesterday."

Remus' heart stops. He feels cold. He realises he's clenching his fists and the pressure has opened up a cut along his knuckles, blood winding and snaking along the crevices in his skin. He dabs it on his perfectly white sheets, for once not caring what Madam Pomfrey will say.

His voice sounds high in his own ears, "What kind of altercation?"

"Oh, you know, just the typical kind of thing. Snape said something to Sirius, Sirius got mad and wanted revenge." James says, his voice light but his eyes are betraying him. They can't seem to focus on Remus. 

"James." Remus breathes, demanding the attention of his friend. Peter is the colour of parchment and has developed a twitch in his jaw. "Tell me he didn't."

"Maybe this isn't a good idea. Pomfrey will kill me for putting you under stress and - "

"I need you to tell me that Sirius hasn't done what I think he has. I need to hear you say those exact words. James, please tell me he hasn't, just say that for me. Please, James." Remus knows he's starting to become frantic, he can hear Madam Pomfrey stir in her office at the sound of his raised voice.

"You have to know, Sirius regretted it immediately. He was a right state when he found me, he could hardly talk. He was petrified, thought I was going to hit him - I nearly did." James speaks quickly, words mashing into one another, sentences obliterating in Remus' ears. "I ran as fast as I could, took the cloak with me and snuck out into the grounds to the Whomping Willow. I got to Snape just in time but he - he got a look at you. I think you got a look at him too but I got him out before anything happened."

"I remember." Remus buries his face in his hands. "I remember seeing him but then he was gone."

Madam Pomfrey bellows from her office, "Potter! Time to leave!"

"You'll be okay though, won't you? You and Sirius? He - he didn't mean any harm."

Remus says nothing.

"Potter, did you hear me?"

"Remus?" James urges desperately.

" _POTTER!"_

James isn't comforted by the blank look on Remus' face as Madam Pomfrey's vice-like grip appears on his shoulder, bustling him and Peter right out of the Hospital Wing doors herself.

***

The dormitory is drowning in an uncomfortable silence as they await Sirius' return. They know he's been given three months detention with Professor McGonagall, effective immediately, but he hasn't had chance to talk with any of them save a few hurried words with James in Dumbledore's office. Remus, despite the aches in his body, can not stay still. He paces the room, limping in a furious zigzag; James watches him from his bed, pretending to be deeply interested by an article in the Daily Prophet when Remus happens to pass by, sharing secret anxious looks with Peter across the room on his own four-poster bed.

Unable to bear the tension any longer, James folds up the newspaper with deliberation and takes a deep breath.

"Remus, you shouldn't have left the Hospital Wing. You should at least sit down, give yourself a chance to - "

"I don't think so, James."

They all jump when the latch on the door lifts and Sirius rushes into the room, school robes askew, breathless as if he has ran the entire way from McGonagall's office. 

Sirius stops for a beat, absorbing the looks on James and Peter's faces, his gaze coming to rest on Remus and knowing that it's bad. James jumps up from his bed, not knowing what to do now that he's standing, feeling suddenly foolish. He goes unnoticed by all but Peter.

"...Remus - " Sirius begins, pushing hair from his sweaty face.

"Explain." Remus orders, jaw twitching. "Explain to me why you did it."

To his credit, Sirius doesn't try to deny it.

"It was Snape, he got to me. I ran into him on the staircase and he - I was impatient for nightfall so we could go to the Willow, to you - he wouldn't move out of my way. It got ugly, he - he insulted me. It was a stupid thing, Remus."

"Oh, he insulted you, did he? Of course, there's always someone else to blame, isn't there? Tell me, what did you do then?"

James shifts on his feet, unable to look up, "Remus, maybe you should - "

"What? The story has only just begun, James. We should hear the rest of it." he says sarcastically, turning back to Sirius, his face expectant. "I repeat; what did you do then, Sirius?"

"I - " 

"Go on, it's not like you to be shy, Sirius. Tell us all how marvellous you were. How did you get back at Severus?"

"I don't think we should do this right now, you need to calm - "

"Don't tell me to calm down, I have every right to be angry!" Remus snaps.

"I can't talk to you like this," Sirius says, holding his hands up in surrender.

"What's wrong, Sirius? Don't you want to tell us what you did? I think I can hazard a guess, if you'll allow me to," Remus folds his arms across his chest, an action that could have been construed falsely by strangers; the other Marauders recognise it in an instant, an attempt at protecting himself. "Let's see, you make a few cheap shots at Severus, just to get him properly riled up - I know you, Sirius, you like your little theatrics - prodding him until you can no longer hold it in. That's when you finally unleash your grand weapon, you like to pride yourself on your pranks and this one really takes the cake - "

"That's not - "

Remus raises his voice, speaking over Sirius, " - you tell Severus about a peculiar tree with a peculiar trick. It's genius, you see. All you have to do is poke the knot at the base of the Whomping Willow and incredibly, it'll freeze. Just like that. But that's not all, is it? Because now you have chance to reach a secret entrance to a tunnel that would have else been unreachable for all the swinging branches. A tunnel where you'll find a further surprise; the answer to where Remus Lupin has been so frequently disappearing off to for all these years."

"But Severus won't find a teenage boy sneaking off in the middle of the night to god knows where, will he? What fun it will be when he realises, how funny it will be when Severus finds himself face to face with a werewolf instead."

Sirius shakes his head earnestly, trying to get a sentence out, "I never meant for it to happen, I wasn't - " 

"I bet you had a right laugh then, sending Severus on his way. You probably patted yourself on the back at how clever you were to think of it!"

"That's not fair, Remus. That's not what it was like at all."

Remus turns his back on them all, moving to stand at the window, watching the rain run down the pane of glass. He's not usually one for anger, he's always hated the lack of restraint when strong emotions come into play, the unnecessary spill of unintended words that fly out before you can catch them. He watches his fingers grip the stone ledge, squeezing so hard that he can almost see the bone of his knuckles beneath his translucent skin. It takes everything in him to keep his voice steady.

"You forget, or maybe you won't admit, that I'm not like you. I'm a werewolf, Sirius. You can get away with anything, whatever you want, you just flutter your eyelashes at people and they drop to their knees for you because you're handsome and charming and most importantly - and it doesn't matter if you hate it, Sirius, it's just a fact - you're a Black. The world is already against me, whether they know it or not. It would have been catastrophic if this got out, if I - if Severus - "

"Dumbledore made Snivellus promise not to say anything! You don't have to worry, nothing happened!"

"Is that really all you have to say? That nothing happened?!" Remus asks, spinning around to stare at Sirius with disbelieving eyes. "It's alarming that you're not even listening to me. Tell me, did you even stop to think what could have gone wrong? I could have killed Severus. It was a miracle I even got to come here in the first place, Sirius, it was only through Dumbledore that I got the chance. Imagine what would have happened to me, to Dumbledore, if I'd attacked another student. There would have been a lynch mob after me."

Sirius, for the first time in his life, is speechless. He has always been ready to snap back with a witty retort; being raised by his mother and father and growing up alongside Regulus nurtured that argumentative side of him but right now, he is at a loss. 

"You betrayed my trust." Remus says plaintively.

"Moony - Remus - it was a thoughtless prank, I didn't think - I - " Sirius takes a step toward Remus, reaching out for his arm.

"No, you didn't think." Remus hisses, batting Sirius' hand away. "You never think, Sirius. You just - you go about and throw yourself into things without a second thought, you never think of what might happen afterwards. You don't care about what's going on around you, or the people you drag into stuff when you do these, just, god awful things."

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, Remus."

"I WOULD HAVE RIPPED HIM TO PIECES IF NOT FOR JAMES! HAVE I NOT EXPLAINED TO YOU THE LACK OF CONTROL THAT I - HOW I WOULD HURT EVEN - " Remus catches himself, pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezes his eyes shut. His voice is eerily calm the next time he speaks. "I really need you to get out of my sight."

"Oh, come on, don't be - "

"I mean it. If you don't go, I will. I'm tired of giving everything I have to you, only for you to dump it like a ruined potion."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I've given you my time. I've given you my patience and my friendship and my trust although you've hardly earned it. I give you my notes from class and my last bar of Honeydukes chocolate and the hours I should have been sleeping to help you with your essays, even though we both know you don't need it - your grades are better than mine. I gave you my bed."

Sirius' cheeks go red, "Your - your bed?"

"First year. Don't tell me you've forgotten?" Remus laughs bitterly, his expression twisting into something that terrifies Sirius. He's never been afraid of Remus, not even when he saw him transform for the first time. This boy isn't Remus though. "You told me you'd claimed the bed by the window before you even got to Hogwarts and I just let you take it. I've had enough, Sirius. You just take and take and take and I've always given you everything, no questions asked."

It's Sirius' turn to be angry, "Knock it off, Remus. You're using this as an excuse to push yourself away because - "

"Because what, Sirius?"

"Because you don't think you're good enough!" Sirius cries, furiously pushing hair out of his eyes. "You don't think you're good enough for us so you try to come up with reasons why you should pull away."

Remus glares at Sirius but he has nothing to say. He balls up his hands into fists and then stretches out his fingers, repeating the action on a cycle; squeeze, release, squeeze, release.

"Did you think we weren't paying attention? You try, every now and again. You think being crabby and disappearing off to the library on your own will make us give up on you but in the end, it's your own selfishness that drives you back." Sirius hears James groan but Sirius is already regretting his choice of words, wishing them back too late.

"...my selfishness?" The two words come softly but with an edge from Remus. "I gave you my secret and you took it and claimed it for your own, just like you always do. It wasn't yours to tell. You treated it like a joke and made me your punchline. How's that for selfishness, _Padfoot_."

"You don't mean any of this, you love me - "

James jumps forward at the sight of Remus' thunderous face and claps a hand over Sirius' mouth, forcibly towing him towards the door of the dormitory. Peter all but trips on his way after them, eager to be out of the room.

"We'll give you some time, Moony. Don't worry, he's going."

As the door swings shut behind them, Remus kicks at his school trunk, making it judder against the floor, splintering the edge. He stares down at it, breathing hard, nostrils flared and cheeks pink, blinking the prickle of tears from his eyes. He kicks the trunk again, revelling in the act of letting go while he's like this, still human. He kicks it again and again, not stopping even as his foot throbs with pain, not until the side of the trunk is as battered and bruised as he feels.

He grabs any and every thing he can get his hands on, sending balled up socks and creased shirts flying into the air, tossing school books across the room as pages spiral to the floor in a whirlwind of paper. Remus reaches for his mattress, planting hands underneath to flip it but then he sees the chocolate bar - dark chocolate with chilli, his favourite of the month - nestled in the dip of his pillow. He sags, dropping to his knees, laying a hand flat against the chocolate.

Sirius must have left it there last night before any of this happened.

Sirius.

Screwing up his face, Remus grabs the chocolate bar, holding it for just a second before he hurls it into the bin. 

The other Marauders can hear the racket as they descend the stairs to the common room and Sirius strains against James, fighting to be free. Peter keeps to the rear, holding out his arms as far as they can go, prepared to act as a barrier to keep Sirius back if he has to.

James tightens his hold from behind, locking his hands together against Sirius' chest, dodging the headbutt Sirius is trying to send his way.

"Leave it, Sirius. If you go back in there now, there'll be a fight and I'm not in the mood to pry you apart. Let him smash up the whole dormitory for all I care, he needs the space and if this is what it takes for him to feel better, so be it."

"He's - going - to hurt - himself!"

"So will you, if you keep it up. Sirius, listen to me - listen!" James hisses, pinning Sirius' struggling body against the wall. "Listen to me! I'll knock you out if I have to but I'd rather not. I get it, okay? You want Remus to know you're sorry but this isn't the time for it. You'll rip each other to pieces if you go back. I know you, Sirius, you'll get mad at _him_ being mad and you'll start throwing punches. Don't do this while tensions are high. Don't give him a reason to hate you more."

Sirius is panting, gulping air like water, suddenly slumping against James in defeat. James loosens his grip a fraction and gives Peter a small nod to ease up.

"If I let you go, you'll come to the common room with us? You won't just rush up there and make matters worse for yourself?"

"I solemnly swear." Sirius mumbles darkly, cheek pressed against the cool stone. Those words have weight; there's a promise in them too sincere to be used lightly.

"Okay."

James steps back with hands in the air and fingers splayed, waiting for Sirius to go against his word but all he does is remain pressed into the wall, eyes downcast and staring without seeing, as if every ounce of energy has been drained from within him.

"Come on, Sirius." James coaxes gently, dropping down a step. "Let's go to the common room, give Moony a chance to cool down."

Sirius pushes away from the wall, each step seeming to cost him a herculean effort like his body is too heavy to move. He wishes more than anything to turn back, to take Remus by the shoulders and make him understand that it was all a mistake, that he'd use a time-turner to change what he did. He'd suffer the consequences gladly, he'd suffer them ten times over to undo the past day, for the sake of Remus and their friendship.

"Go grab a seat near the fire, Pete, one of us can sit on the floor." James commands, hanging back to watch Sirius still trailing behind him. "Better hurry up, Sirius, before those sixth years take your favourite armchair."

"I don't deserve it," Sirius mumbles as they step into the common room. He lets James push him down into the chair regardless of his words.

James, convinced that Sirius is going to stay put, pulls up a spare foot-rest and drops onto it. He drags a hand through his hair, crumpling it into further disarray, although when he does it now, he isn't thinking of impressing Lily Evans on the other side of the common room. Glancing about, he leans forwards and braces his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together.

"What _were_ you thinking, Sirius? Snape is going to lord this over Remus for the rest of his life. It doesn't matter what Dumbledore says to him, Snivellus isn't going to forget this - he's going to blame Remus."

"Yeah, Padfoot." Peter chimes in from his place on the floor. "He's probably going to out him."

"Shut up, Pete."

"I couldn't help it, " Sirius whines, letting his face fall into his hands. "Snape was just - I got mad and I thought it would be funny, that he'd maybe get a glimpse of Moony and freak out but he - well, you know."

James' glasses catch the firelight and momentarily flash. 

"I just can't believe how thick you were. Remus wouldn't even tell _us_ , we had to figure it out for ourselves and you went and blabbed to the biggest git on the planet. I've never seen Remus so angry."

The loss of points from Gryffindor is tremendous - Peter can't stop saying it. He's twitchier than Sirius and James about it, who have been at pains to avoid looking at the hour glass altogether. The same can't be said for the rest of the house, who seem hellbent on tracking down the brainless fools that cost them the house cup. Even now, they can hear a couple of third years nattering about it on the floor beside the fire, casting dark looks about the common room as if to catch out the perpetrators.

Sirius spots them and instantly narrows his eyes. "There's more to life than points and house cups. More - more serious things."

James is inclined to agree but at the present, he'd rather not give Sirius the satisfaction of thinking he's capable of saying anything right at all.


	7. Chapter 7

Sixth Year

Remus is still angry at Sirius the next morning, and the next, and the morning after that. He's still angry after several days and when a fortnight passes since they last spoke to each other, James and Peter have all but given up hope. 

Every day, Remus disappears from Gryffindor Tower before Sirius can blink the sleep from his eyes, silent and stony-faced during the first few days when they happen to be near one another. Sirius can't get a word out of him, hard as he tries, until James takes him by the arm one afternoon and tells him to lay off.

"Why can't he just let it go, James! It was a stupid mistake. He's got to talk to me eventually."

James nods with all the sympathy of a friend caught in the crossfire but keeps his grip firm on Sirius' shoulder. It's hard for Sirius to miss the judgement in James' voice, "I don't think you really understand how big this is for Remus."

Remus can't shake off the paranoia that if James and Peter are forced to choose between them, they'd rather be with Sirius instead. He knows he's not as charming as Sirius, not as easy with laughter and more prone to judgement when they do something he doesn't agree with. Peter had been Remus' friend first but James and Sirius have a bond that Remus has always been envious of, and he worries that Peter will follow James' suit if he were to choose Sirius, as Peter has done time and time again.

So Remus acts out in cowardice; it's not something he feels proud of but he's scared. He can't go back to the way he was before Hogwarts, he doesn't know if he'd survive it.

He sits at his desk in Transfiguration - Sirius' desk too - for the first time in weeks, methodically arranging his parchment and textbooks in front of him. Remus watches the other mill into the classroom, dropping his gaze the moment Sirius comes into view, steeling himself for what he's about to do. He already feels a spike of self-loathing.

The sight of Remus there makes Sirius feel lighter, a heaviness in his stomach lifted. Sirius feels as if he could fly as he half jogs down the aisle to the desk.

"Good to have you back, Remus." James greets hesitantly, testing the waters.

"It's good to be back," Remus says calmly, acting for all the world as if nothing has transpired.

James and Peter take their seats at the next table over, quizzical but pleased regardless. Sirius swings into his own beside Remus, buoyed and grinning wildly, so thrilled that his cheeks ache from the wideness of his smile.

"Moony, aren't you a sight for sore eyes! About time too, I thought that you would never - "

Remus cuts him off, leaning back in his chair to address James, holding up a quill with a slightly peeved expression, "I don't suppose you have a spare quill, James? Mine is broken. It must have slipped my mind to buy a new one the last time we were in Hogsmeade."

James is certain the agog look on Sirius' face mirrors his own; he's still watching Sirius even as he answers Remus, "Uh, sure..."

"Remus?" Sirius asks but again, Remus appears to not have heard him.

"Thanks! I can't believe I forgot."

Professor McGonagall calls for the attention of the class, promptly distributing rabbits to the students. Sirius takes hold of his own squirming rabbit in a daze, for the first time finding himself wishing to be anywhere but in this seat next to Remus. He can sense James staring at him but he's too ashamed to meet that look, not knowing what his friend's face may convey - confusion? Pity, perhaps? Maybe even approval that Sirius was getting his comeuppance for taking Remus for granted for too long?

"Remus, please don't do this." Sirius says in an undertone but to no avail. Remus simply refuses to listen to him.

"Black, may I remind you that this is to be graded?" McGonagall barks from the front, snapping Sirius back into self-awareness. Painful, acute self-awareness. He can practically feel Remus brimming over with some emotion beside him, the slither of space between their chairs about to break open with tension, as taut as a rubber-band stretched to its limit.

He can barely focus on transfiguring the rabbit in front of him into a cushion. His fingers are numb around his wand and all around him are sounds of muted chatter and firm incantations, Remus' own voice quietly murmuring the spell as if afraid that even this would be misconstrued by Sirius as an acceptable conversation starter. Sirius has gotten to his feet and he only becomes aware of it when Professor McGonagall serves him with one of her withering, arched eyebrow looks. The rest of the class take notice and a few students turn to watch.

"I -"

"Well, Mr. Black? Is something detaining you from your rabbit?" More heads turn in his direction.

Any other day, he'd be tempted to make a joke. That's what everyone is expecting because they're holding their breath, letting their rabbits escape, waiting to see him foolishly take a chance with McGonagall, of all teachers. She's not exactly as soft touch like Binns. He shoots a glance at James, who has one hand placed securely on his own hopping brown cushion, and finds he has no excuse in his head to get out of this one.

"I - uh - I - "

"He's not feeling well, Professor." James chimes in heroically. Sirius would kiss him if he wasn't sweating under the intense scrutiny of their teacher.

McGonagall turns to suspicion quicker than she can turn into a cat. "If that is the case, Mr. Potter, then why is Mr. Black not telling me himself?"

"Sore throat. Could be tonsillitis - highly contagious, Professor. Maybe he should go to the Hospital Wing?"

Professor McGonagall looks about the classroom, at the diverted students and half transformed rabbits jumping around on the floor, her lesson in absolute chaos, and narrows her eyes.

"Very well," she says, although her lips become a hard line as if it's physically costing her to excuse a student from her class. "I want you back here on Saturday morning to complete your work, otherwise I will fail you. Oh, and Mr. Black?"

Sirius pauses in the act of gathering up his belongings, trying not to look at Remus bristling with anger and glowering at his cushion.

"Next time you want to leave my lesson prematurely, do come up with a better reason. I will accept no less than loss of limb in future!"

This act of Sirius' none-existence becomes their new routine over the next week. Lessons continue on in this way, too. It's an awkward dance with a lot of compromise on Sirius' side, often appealing to Peter or James to switch seats with him so that he won't have to deal with that sweat-inducing silence from Remus' side of the desk.

What else can Sirius do? He plays along with Remus' game until at last it wears thin; the final straw comes during Herbology, where he politely asks Remus to pass the pruning shears before the Venomous Tentacula can twine itself any further up his arm, and Remus very politely carries on ignoring him back. It takes an accurately placed Severing charm from James to free Sirius from the plants restricting grasp and even as Sirius collapses in a sprawling heap on the soil strewn floor, Remus does nothing.

When Professor Sprout calls time and sends them from the greenhouses back up to the castle, Sirius is positively glum and desperate to repair the mess he's made between him and Remus. The Marauders lurk behind the rest of the class, their peers grubby with dirt and sweat, already ahead of them though not far enough that they cannot hear snippets of conversation.

"Fancy putting Herbology right before Potions. It's bad enough smelling of dung, but smelling of dung through a double period of standing over a cauldron? It's going to stick to my clothes - "

"- It's taken me two weeks to wash out the smell in my other set of robes, I don't understand how. I've been using all kinds of spells, not even the soap recommendations from the house-elves helped - "

" - That's because David has been shoving dungbombs into your trunk for days now..."  
James stops to tie his shoelace, handing Peter his bag so he can stoop down. The rest of their silent party - Sirius and Remus - come to a stop, James' distraction providing an opportunity that Sirius has been waiting days for.

"We need to talk about this."

Remus hasn't realised Sirius is talking to him, they've gone long enough ignoring each other that the possibility the words are addressed to him haven't entered his head.

"Remus."

Remus freezes at the sound of his name.

"Don't you think this has gone on too long, Remus?"

"I thought we agreed on not talking." Remus says lightly, keeping his face neutral but he is betrayed by his body; he shifts his weight between his feet, as if preparing to flee.

"No. You agreed with yourself on not talking, I said nothing of the kind. I don't know how the not-talking came about. It just happened."

"You're fully aware of how it came about, you were the reason."

"I know that bit," Sirius snaps, angry around the edges before he realises he shouldn't be riling Remus up more. "I just don't understand how this has happened to us, Remus. You haven't said a word to me for weeks. All you've done is pretend I'm not here, or talk over me if I say anything, or disappear from the dormitory before I wake up. You have to feel that this isn't right, that our - our friendship deserves more than this - "

"You brought it on yourself. You're the one who ruined everything."

"Come on, I can't bear this anymore." Sirius urges, his expression blowing open, vulnerable. He drops his voice to a whisper, cautiously cutting glances at James and Peter. "My entire family hate me, you're all I have. It's getting bad, Remus."

His relationship with his family has deteriorated so much that he dreads returning to Grimmauld Place for summer. Knowing how easy it is for his friends to read him, Sirius has been at pains to cover traces of strain from home. He's burnt letters from his mother ever since he was eleven years old; letters of admonishment and vehemence at his being sorted into Gryffindor instead of Slytherin as she had wished, letters of disapproval at his readiness to befriend anyone less than pure blood, letters discussing regret at having such a son and most recently, letters threatening to disinherit him completely and curse his name from the Black family tapestry forever. Even those letters have become so few and far between that Sirius fears it only signals worse things to come.

He has never felt so entirely alone.

Sirius all but begs of his friend, "Please, Moony. Please forgive me." 

Remus is resolute. He doesn't say anything and makes to leave but Sirius grabs him by the arm, pulling him back. Even through his shirt and jumper, it's impossible for Remus not to feel the jolt at the contact; no matter how much he wants to lean into it, he can't let himself stay put.

"Don't you do that. Don't walk away and pretend that what I said is nothing to you."

"Let me go, Sirius."

"Not until we talk about this, not until - "

Remus wrestles with Sirius' grip, "I mean it, let go of my arm."

"This isn't you, you're not like this."

"I'm warning you, Sirius - "

"You've never been petty."

"Sirius - "

"Look at me, Remus. Just - look at me." Sirius tries to hold onto Remus but it's getting harder by the second. "The way I feel about - you need to know that I - "

"I SAID LET GO!"

There is nothing between Remus screaming those words and the moment his fist smashes into Sirius' face. There is no time for reaction. Sirius realises what has happened only when he drops to his knees at Remus' feet, the entire left side of his face throbbing.

A little way away, James is holding Peter back, a firm and warning grip on his shoulder. Remus doesn't care anymore, he doesn't care that for all his time here he has chosen to be the steady one, the calm one, the silently disapproving yet resigned one. Why is he never allowed to brood and sulk as Sirius does? 

Sirius' shoulders are shaking but his head is bent so low that it's hard to tell whether he's laughing or not. The rest of the class have wandered out of sight and earshot. They're alone.

Nobody talks; even the birds have stopped to listen. James' mouth is hanging open and he doesn't have the presence of mind to maintain his hold on Peter, who isn't able to move if he wished to. Even Remus can't believe it, suspended in that moment of regret and shock as he looks down at Sirius' hunched figure, until all the bones in his hand start screaming in protest, as if even his own body is trying to tell him he is not made for this.

The bubble pops and everything - noise, movement, and realisation - rushes at them all at once. The world is loud in Remus' ears.

"ARGH, GOD DAMN IT!" Remus yells, shaking out his fist, flexing aching fingers.

"Listen to that filthy muggle mouth. Should have taught you how to throw a proper punch, would have at least spared you the pain." Sirius says quietly, his hand obscuring half his face; he feels wetness against his fingers and he doesn't have to look to know his nose is bleeding. He's sure he will get a black eye but he won't grumble. He deserves it. He'd never argue with Remus on that point.

"Do you know what the worst part of it is?!" Remus asks through gritted teeth, struggling to reign in the desire to hit Sirius again. He brings his hand up to cradle against his chest, wondering if he'll be able to write again after this. He blames Sirius, of course; why did he have to be so pushy? Could he not just leave well enough alone for once?

Sirius is still clutching his face, probing with trembling fingers over the soreness around his eye, and shakes his head at Remus' question. 

"Sometimes I think it could be easier being a wolf. I wouldn't have to deal with all these messy, complicated emotions. Humans just make things unbearably difficult, we think too much about everything and presume what we don't know."

"We're in a complicated, messy world, Remus. Besides, complicated and messy emotions are your speciality." Sirius pants, staring up at his friend through a curtain of hair, smirking without humour as he rises to his feet; his teeth shine with blood and he spits into the grass, though it doesn't help rid the metallic tang on his tongue. "You're so desperate to be miserable that you won't allow yourself anything that might make you happy."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

Sirius ignores the questions, merely nods his head at Remus' bruised hand. "You should use murtlap essence on that, might help some with the aching."

Remus tries to glare as Sirius turns to leave but can't get beyond a stare as he watches him walk away, head bowed and hand still holding his face.

Remus needn't have worried about their friends preferred allegiances. After that, Sirius is rarely with them anymore to give James and Peter much of an option. Sirius can hardly stand to stay around them. He feels severed from the others, as if whatever bond had initially joined them has frayed over the past few weeks, coming apart thread by thread, clinging on by a single, stubborn strand.

Instead, he's taken to abusing his knowledge of the secret passageways from their Map, sneaking out after dinner to traverse the long tunnel leading to Hogsmeade, only returning in the early hours of the morning stinking of a heady concoction of drinks obtained from the Hog's Head - the only pub that will serve him.

"Oh, iss you." Sirius garbles after spotting them gathered around the Map one night, tripping through the portrait hole. He raises a finger to his lips in a shushing motion, then proceeds to bellow loud enough that James is sure the entirety of Gryffindor house can hear him. "JUST IGNORE ME, I'M SLEEPING!"

His black eye is only just starting to fade, a ring of yellow and green stamped around his eye but James worries he's in danger of renewing it as Sirius stumbles against the leg of a table and flails wildly into a hanging tapestry.

"Who put this wall here?!"

Remus tuts and mutters darkly under his breath, "Oh, Merlin." 

"No - no, don't geddup!" he says when James sits forward. "I've done this loadsa times without you. I can do it with my eyes closed."

"Oh, yeah?" James says quietly. "I imagine that's how you found the wall tapestry."

Sirius brushes tangled hair from his forehead with an impatient hand, notices Remus sinking lower and lower in his chair. The fog in his eyes clears a little and for a second, he blinks as if in perfect clarity, face crumbling from acute despair. Then nothing, as if it never happened because James has started shifting uncomfortably. 

"It's okay! I'm going, James." Sirius insists, gingerly placing one foot in front of the other, following a wobbly path to the stairs.

They all watch him crawl up the first few steps before Remus can't stand to witness it any longer. He turns away, grimacing at the scuffling that echoes down the stone stairs, the occasional grunt of pain. It's not easy to see Sirius like this and Remus has no idea why he's doing this to him anymore.

James heaves himself from the chair with a deep sigh, raking a hand through his hair. "I better go and make sure he's alright, before he wakes everyone up and gets himself expelled."

They fall into heavy silence after James follows Sirius. Remus is steadily ignoring the sounds of struggle coming from the stairs leading to their dormitory. He gently prods the Marauder's Map with his wand tip, casting a charm over the parchment, watching as writing begins to spell itself across the page; Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot & Prongs...

"Hey, Remus?"

Remus barely glances up. "What is it, Pete?"

"I've never really thanked you for sticking up for me."

The unexpected words startle Remus into looking at his friend; Peter is chewing nervously around his thumbnail, one knee bouncing up and down with frenetic energy. Remus knows that Peter is weighing up the consequences of what he's about to say next and whether they'll be worth continuing. He's never been confrontational, relying on James or Sirius or, even on occasion, Remus to defend him. He simply follows their lead and is more than happy to do so.

"You're my friend, Peter, I'll always stick up for you."

Peter pulls a pained face, clearly wishing he hadn't opened his mouth. "I mean back in first year, when James and Sirius wanted to be your friend. You could have stopped talking to me but you didn't. You made them give me a chance."

Remus sits up, anticipating where this is going to lead, not knowing the right way to stop it. Peter seems to realise this too; his words start to come faster, determined to get them out before Remus can decide whether he wants to be annoyed at him too.

"That's what I've always liked about you, you know. You've always been kind, you never like to say a bad word about anyone. You always say people deserve second chances."

"Look, Pete, I'm - "

"I know it's different with Sirius sometimes but we know you care about him. You mean a lot to him as well."

"It doesn't matter how we feel, he still betrayed my trust. What sort of friend would do that?" Remus shoots back, standing up but unable to move. He glances at the door to the dormitory, knowing Sirius and James are up there doing Merlin knows what - James is probably trying to wrestle Sirius into his pyjamas - and then at Peter's earnest round face.

"One who makes mistakes?" Peter suggests, ruffling up his hair in a poor imitation of James. The action makes Remus desperately sad for him. "We all make them. I don't think Sirius would do something like that again, he's learnt his lesson."

"You can't know that!"

For the first time, Remus recognises that he's running out of excuses to stay angry at Sirius. In truth, he does feel the blank space which Sirius had previously occupied. He acknowledges it beside him in lessons, or from across the dormitory where he sleeps, in the library where he still expects Sirius to bound in without a second thought for decorum and basic library etiquette. Sirius made Remus feel as if he were the sole priority; perhaps he'd taken that attention for granted, only aware how much of Sirius filled up his life until he was no longer in it. Remus feels hollowed out - a faded version of himself - like someone came and scooped out every good thing in him and left behind this shrivelled, bitter shell in his stead. 

"No, I can't. I can hope though," Peter says, getting to his feet and stretching out his arms. He gathers up his cloak from the floor and turns back to Remus with a small, empathetic smile. "You just have to hope that you know the person enough to trust them again. I think you already know what you want."

Remus scrubs at his face and groans, the first sign of his confliction that he's shown. Peter senses the thaw in Remus' countenance and jumps on his chance.

"I know it doesn't seem like it but Sirius has always tried to be his best for you." comes Peter's voice from behind him.

"You're right, it doesn't always seem like it."

"Well, you know, he tries. It's just hard to tell sometimes." Peter explains. "He - well, he did loads of research when we first found out you were - you know. He said he wanted to know everything there is to know about werewolves. He didn't want you to know though, he didn't want to weird you out."

"Why are you telling me this, Peter?"

"It just seems important for you to know, somehow. If you think this one mistake outweighs all the good he's tried to do - it's your choice, Remus. You have the right to be mad if you still want to be."

Remus stares hard at the Map, down at the small dot labelled 'Sirius Black.' Maybe Peter is right, maybe he does know what he wants but he's been too stubborn to give in.

***

It was the full moon last night. Sirius wasn't allowed to go - that went without saying - but neither were James or Peter. Sirius heard the news yesterday evening after dinner; he'd been a few paces ahead, nearly at the bottom of the staircase, when he noticed Remus had pulled James and Peter to the side. He hadn't dared to ask with Remus there but he made sure to hang back once Remus had brushed past him without acknowledgement, watching him take the stairs two at a time.

_"What was that about?" Sirius asked, staring from Peter to James, speaking the first words to them in days._

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_"He doesn't want us to go with him." James had said carefully, making to follow Remus' steps to the staircase._

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_"But why? He hates being alone."_

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_James' eyes had flashed a warning, his voice harsher than ordinarily. "It's his decision, Sirius. I'm not going to argue with him."_

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_"I know you love going, just as much as Pete - just as much as I - " Sirius had stopped, needlessly censoring his words at the mention of himself; a habit he'd picked up from his fall out with Remus, who had made a point of sighing disparagingly if Sirius happened to speak while he was around._

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_"Whatever you're thinking of doing, just - just don't, okay?" James ordered, his expression softening at the minuscule change in Sirius' expression. To anybody else, it would have gone unnoticed but not to James, who was so adept at analysing his friend's mannerisms that he caught it in an instant. "He can't keep this up much longer, Sirius. I know he misses you; he's just working through it. Give him time, okay?"_

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_"It doesn't seem like it." Sirius said dully._

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_Ever since Remus had stopped talking to him, everything had become a little greyer, even Hogwarts itself. It had always felt like acceptance being here, a place where he belonged and could escape the misery of his family. It was the only place that he felt true, the sight of these stone walls were like the calling of home. Without Remus, it might as well be as empty to him as the rooms in Grimmauld Place._

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_"He does, I promise you that, Padfoot. Just hold off a little longer, it'll all right itself soon enough." James said, grasping Sirius' arm before he could leave. "I know how hard it is. Lily Evans has actively hated me for the better part of five years now."_

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_"What's that got to do with anything?"_

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_James gave Sirius a hard stare. "Come on, mate. Give me some credit. You always find excuses to touch him, you're_ always _gazing at him, you never punch_ him _if he calls you out on being a right old git - you didn't even fight back when he hit you."_

_"I - well, I - it's - "_

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_"There's no point denying it, me and Pete have had a bet on since third year. He thought you'd have told Remus by now but I decided to hold out - seventh year, actually. I said you'd be more likely to go for the bold declaration, like standing up on the table at breakfast and announcing it to the entire school at end of term." James explained casually, not even pretending to be embarrassed. "We skipped on the bet though, we were just waiting for you to tell him in the end but then, you know...all of this happened."_

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_"You've known since_ third year?!"

_"I said we've had the bet on since third year. We've known longer than that. The point I was trying to make is, we have no right telling them how they should feel. We've both been prats, Padfoot, we just have to hope that in time they'll give us a second chance."_

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_"You're right. I can't believe the words are leaving my mouth but - you're right, James."_

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_James nodded with no trace of smugness about him. "Oh, and by the way? We're still here, Sirius. Talk to us. We're your friends too and whatever this is that's happening between you and Remus won't change that. You made a right ogre of yourself the other night, you know that? You can't keep doing it, mate, you can't keep barging into the common room drunk off whatever swill you're getting at the Hog's Head. You're really starting to worry me."_

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_"I know - "_

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_"Do you?" James demanded. "Do you really know how much you're scaring me - scaring all of us?"_

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_"It's just been hard." Sirius grumbled, looking at his feet. "With my family - and then Remus. It's just been - you have no idea."_

_"Because you don't tell me a damn thing! We need to talk about this. Promise me, Sirius. Swear to me that we're going to talk about this. You have to tell me everything that's happening at home so I can help you, there's no shame in - "_

_"Merlin's Beard, James! Fine, I promise! I'll tell you every single bloody detail."_

_"Good. I'm warning you, Padfoot, we're going to discuss this at length later on or I'm going to hex you."_

_Sirius had started to feel like he was getting a lecture from a teacher. "Sure. Fine. Whatever."_

_James had taken hold of Sirius' arm again, who tried for a hasty retreat. "One more thing; if you see us with Remus, quit disappearing. You have every right to be with us as well, we'll make it work. You don't have to run off with your tail between your legs."_

_"Oh, that's really funny, James." Sirius sighed, rolling his eyes. "But thanks."_

Sirius wonders, not for the first time, why it isn't James he was nursing a bruised heart for. James can be arrogant but he can also be warm, obliging, an attentive listener. They both have the same sense of humour, the same interests, the same uncanny knack of worming their way out of difficult situations. James is easy to love if you can look past his need to impress, which can come on stronger than necessary when he gets really desperate to win your graces. He's changed from when he was the short, uncomplicated boy that wandered into their dormitory that first night; he's not much taller but he's lean from Quidditch, a handsome face prone to laughter, dark doe eyes and smooth brown skin and black hair that refuses to cooperate. Even for all of that, when Sirius looks at James, all he sees is someone he can call a brother.

He loves James but he's _in_ love with Remus

James' words had swayed Sirius at the time but the longer he let it stew, the more enraged he became at Remus. Hasn't he waited long enough? What good is it for either of them to remain this way? They needed each other. He was determined to get Remus to talk to him. 

Sirius is a gambling man; he lives for risks, for leapfrogging between scenarios with nothing but a hope of a chance to hold onto. Yet inexplicably, he's been scared of Remus all of these years. Every excuse he's given himself to keep his feelings for Remus a secret - a ruined friendship, the possibility of a rebuff - suddenly doesn't matter anymore because he's on the brink of losing Remus forever.

So Sirius does what he knows best. He gambles.

Remus ambles into the dormitory late in the afternoon just as Sirius anticipates, wrapped up in a holey cardigan and trousers that are just a little too big on him. He's skipped dinner - skipped lessons too - to make sure he wouldn't miss him; he's been waiting all day, pacing the room, working over everything he wants to say. He's rehearsed it at least two dozen times over.

All of that practising goes out the window as soon as he really looks at Remus.

He's tired, more so than usual, his grey skin covered by a thin sheen and a number of fresh cuts. There's a particularly nasty one slicing through his eyebrow and across the bridge of his nose, tapering off onto his cheek. Sirius knows Madam Pomfrey has done all she can for it, applied the necessary solution of powdered silver and dittany to stop Remus bleeding to death but he knows it won't help with the scarring. He knows that that scar will never stop causing Remus pain every time he sees it, that he'll reach up to touch it every day as if he's been branded.

"I thought everyone was at dinner..." Remus starts awkwardly, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets and looking anywhere but Sirius, automatically self-conscious of his appearance. 

Breathing this stilted air makes Sirius' head swim and his chest tight. It has never exactly been easy with Remus but it's always felt right, they've always seemed to fit together until suddenly, they didn't anymore. Sirius can't stand it, being this close to Remus but feeling so far away.

"I wasn't hungry - no, that's not good enough. I want to talk to you. I've wanted to talk to you for weeks." Sirius says firmly. "Don't punish James and Peter. They want to be there for you when you go wolf, don't shut them out too."

There is a heartbeat of silence.

"I wasn't punishing anyone. I just wanted to be alone."

"You never want to be alone when it's the full moon." Sirius says, raising an eyebrow, daring him to object.

Remus keeps quiet and Sirius can tell he's losing his attention.

"We finished the Map the other night, maybe James told you?"

Remus shakes his head.

"I was testing it out yesterday. I - I watched you disappear right off the edge with Madam Pomfrey - "

"So is this all you wanted to say? Because it's been a tough night, I just want to sleep in my own bed." Remus says curtly.

"There's a lot more I want to say, Remus, you know that. I can never say sorry enough though, can I? I've blown it. I always do."

Remus, exhausted and unwilling to argue, falters for a moment. "What do you mean?"

"I always mess up, it's - it's like I can't NOT say or do something stupid. I always see it coming but I can never stop myself."

"Maybe you should concentrate on improving upon that then."

"You don't understand, of course you don't. It's not in your nature, you're always in absolute control besides - you know." Sirius stops and stoops his head, suddenly bashful. 

Remus, miraculously, takes pity on him, "Besides when I'm a wolf, you mean."

Sirius nods and glances up hopefully, relieved that Remus isn't shouting yet. 

"I'm a wildcard though, Remus, you know that. I'm ruled by my emotions. Even when I know that saying the wrong thing will get me in trouble and even if I somehow manage to refrain from it in the moment, if I get mad, somewhere down the line..."

"Anger makes us cruel, it makes monsters of us all." Remus mutters, pressing the heel of his hand into an eye. He remembers Peter's surprisingly insightful words. "Especially me. I know I've been awful to you."

They stand in silence for a moment. Below, the sounds of other students milling into the common room drift up the staircase of the dormitories, shrill laughter and teasing jokes. Sirius knows this rare privacy will not last for long and seizes what is left of the opportunity.

"Do you - are you serious? Because Remus, we're like - we're like the moon and the stars. Being without you, well - it's unfathomable."

"That must be the cheesiest thing to ever come out of your mouth, Sirius."

"It's true though, we are literally the moon and the stars. Just look at our names." 

Remus chuckles weakly but then hesitates, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood. Tentatively, he steps towards Sirius.

"I want to forgive you - "

"...but? There's a but, isn't there?"

Remus smiles, the first smile Sirius has seen aimed at him in weeks. It makes his stomach jolt and his heart jump into his mouth, it's like a warm shower on a cold day, seeing that smile.

"But I think I forgave you the second after I found out about your prank. I needed to be mad at you though." Remus confesses, messing with a loose thread on his sleeve. "I got it all out my system last night. I'm just so tired of trying to stay angry."

"Do you mean it, Moony? Because I've missed you. I've missed us. I've been trying so hard not to be...me. I thought that was the end of everything, that day after Herbology. I thought I'd pushed you to your breaking point."

"Look, sometimes with you, it's impossible. You make me want to scream from the top of the Astronomy Tower and I want to punch you in your throat half the time - "

"I get it, I wish I wasn't like this. I know I say things that can be - when I said selfishness drove you back to us? Merlin. What was I thinking?" Sirius flinches at the memory; how unfeeling he can be, how easily he can fire words like curses at the people he loves.

Remus smiles sadly at Sirius, "You were right though, it is selfishness. I know that your reputation is at risk if people were to ever find out you've befriended a - well, you know. After I got bit, I sort of...sank into myself. Pulled away from everyone. I was miserable, pathetic, always wishing for friends even though I chose to hide away. Then I came here and I got it, I got you and James and Peter and still, I find myself sinking a little more into myself again with every approaching full moon. I can never do it though, I can never pull away completely. I - I always remember what it's like to have no one. You can't know how much - it hurts more than anything, Sirius, more than transforming. I'd transform every single day if it meant never feeling that way again, if it meant that - if I got to keep you."

Sirius wants to tell him he knows exactly what that feels like, that he knows exactly how it hurts. He thinks of long days shut up inside his room at Grimmauld Place, of the austere oppression of it, slowly suffocating from it. He forgets how to breathe; everything falls away, leaving him and Remus and his own stuttering, aching heart between them. 

Remus steps closer, face blazing with startling resolution. "But do you know how I feel when I don't want to wring your neck, Sirius? Merlin forgive me but the rest of the time I spend wanting to kiss you until your brain feels like it's been Stupefied. Even in your most irksome moments, like when you laugh louder than anyone else at your _own_ dumb jokes or smirk like you know everything or - "

"You want to kiss me?"

Remus stares hard at Sirius; it's a measured look and suddenly, with Sirius right in front of him - just that expression on his face that seems to spell out devastating confusion - is enough to bring on a stinging in his eyes, a hot trickle of wetness against his cheeks.

"Moony! Moony, why are you crying?!"

Remus shoves Sirius roughly by the shoulder without really knowing why and turns stiffly to face the window; the sky is a perfect black, like looking out to find that they're submerged beneath an ocean of ink. Remus wishes that that were true so he could go drown himself for what he is about to say because finally, he's had enough of pretending.

"Oh, of course I want to kiss you." he says, voice quivering. He ferociously wipes away any tears with the back of his hand, glad he's facing away from Sirius. "Of course I do, Sirius. You're insufferable and rude and sarcastic, and sometimes I wonder if you actually give a flying toadstool about anyone else but Merlin's beard, Sirius. How can you not know? How can you have not figured it out by now - "

"Moony." Sirius says with an edge of urgency; somewhere in his stomach, a spark has caught. He feels it flickering to life and igniting his blood, setting his whole body alight with crackling energy. His heart is a bonfire, burning up his chest.

" - and yet, I can't believe it myself. I find myself drooling over my porridge at breakfast like a giggling first year with a crush just seeing you sit opposite me, flicking cornflakes off your spoon at James or - or spelling paper aeroplanes to fly at Pete's head. I can't concentrate on homework from being around you, I stare at you over my books without realising until I catch myself gaping. Even when I wasn't talking to you, I felt like I was constantly wrestling with myself. I'm not sure when it started to change, when I started to make a conscious effort not to just stare at you so often. I was so terrified you'd find out. But you've never noticed, not once did you notice me, not even when I was right in front of you."

Remus can't stop talking now that he's begun; it's as if he's been thrown into some waking nightmare, that the more he wants to shut up, the more the words are spilling out of him. If he didn't know any better, he'd think someone had slipped him some Veritaserum.

"Moony - " Sirius tries again.

"But I don't blame you, why would you see me the way I see you. I never expected anything like that, just having you as someone I could call a friend is - it's enough. It'll be enough. You're my best friend."

" _MOONY!_ "

Remus has passed the stage of fleeting confidence - or perhaps it's determined ignorance. He's currently residing in burning embarrassment. "What, Sirius? What do you even want?"

"Maybe if you'd turn around and shut up, you'd realise."

"What?" 

When Remus twists back around, Sirius is closer than he had been. Closer than he's ever been before. Maybe he's always been this close and Remus has never seen it before now, never ready to admit that they've always naturally gravitated towards one another. He crowds Remus into the nook by the window, stealing up all the room between them.

"You git, I've always seen you." Sirius says. "I definitely saw you when you decided to wallop me one."

Sirius has always been free with touches and smiles, he's always been generous with them in a way Remus never can be. Remus has witnessed enough of his flirting with just about everyone over the years firsthand to know that this feels different from any of those other times now. 

"Besides," Sirius continues lightly, his grin teasing. "You think I'm handsome."

"I think you're...when did I say that?!"

"The day we fell out. You said all I had to do was flutter my eyelashes and people would do whatever I wanted because I'm handsome and charming."

"I - " Remus gapes. He did say that. His tone shifts into more familiar territory, more than a hint of accusation about it. "Don't tell me that was all you got out of everything I said that day."

Sirius shuffles closer and makes a noise, a laugh that sounds more of an exhale, his hand finding a place in the crook of Remus' neck, altogether warm and heavy and alien.

"What are you - what's happening here, Sirius?"

"Well, I think I'm trying to kiss you but you're not making it easy."

Remus thinks he hears those words but he's having trouble registering them, "Wait a minute - "

Sirius pushes Remus back by the shoulders and holds him at arm's length. His eyebrows knitted together, face cut into edges and angles. 

"I thought this is what you wanted?"

"It - it was, I mean - it is. I just, I don't understand - "

Sirius' expression clears, "Well, then. Can you stop asking questions like we're in class and just go with it? I know a lot of people who would give up their wands to be in your position -"

"Why aren't you kissing them, then?"

"Because I want to kiss you!" his voice is like gravel, rough and scratchy, grey eyes searching Remus' own. "Why else, Remus? You think you're the only one who's been casting wishful glances over the breakfast table? Why did you think I was asking you for help on essays all these years? We both know I don't need it, you said it yourself! Even James has clocked on to how I feel about you and he's as observant as a brick." Sirius pauses and looks at Remus with open, naked pleading. "Did you really never stop to wonder if I was doing all of that stuff to get your attention? What about that first morning in the Shrieking Shack, the one where I patched you up? What did you think I was doing if not openly flirting with you?! I was trying to be as clear about my intentions as I knew how!"

Remus can't even dare to begin to hope. "I thought - I don't know what I thought! I - I was run away with my imagination! This is just so - it's easier for me to believe you're joking."

Sirius looks as if he wants to take Remus by the shoulders and jostle him. Instead, he pushes a hand through his hair, sifting it through spindly fingers, drawing it out from root to tips, searching for the right words.

"A joke?!" Sirius lets out a disbelieving breath of a laugh. "If you knew how long I've - this is the last thing I'd joke about, Remus, especially with you. All the stupid pranks and the chocolate bars - remember the day I showed you my Animagus form? You asked who I was trying to impress? It was you, Remus. It's always been you. Merlin, it's like we're in one of those muggle books you're always reading. I want to kiss you because you're good and loyal and you're beautiful - "

Remus shuts his eyes, shakes his head as if to dispel the compliment from his ears. ”Just stop talking."

"Why? Don't you know you're beautiful?" 

Remus cringes and wrinkles up his nose self-consciously. Sirius has always lacked tact, one of his many faults; he can never understand how Remus seizes up at such questions, how much he'd rather melt away into the floor than have to provide an answer. Sirius is always pushing him in ways that he'd rather not be but Remus, never wanting to disappoint, gives him what he wants.

"No. I'm not." he says, staring at his feet. It's so hard to talk when Sirius is leaning in this close, clouding up his brain. "Not the way you are."

"Come on - "

"I mean it. You're the beautiful one and you know it. You're the one everyone stops to watch, you're the one whose initials get scribbled onto corners of parchment. I'm nothing - not beautiful or special to look at. I'm just, just these ugly scars and puckered skin. I'm just a werewolf." Remus babbles, feeling hotter the longer Sirius stares. "Sometimes, I can convince myself. Some days I can look in a mirror and I can get past these marks on my face and I'm okay. It's okay. Then I catch my reflection in a window or the back of my spoon or - or whatever, and everything I felt that morning is over. I'm not ordinary but I'm not...like you."

Sirius' hand slides down to Remus' chest, palm pressed flat against his heart, pinning him in place. Remus wonders in a panic whether Sirius can feel it pounding between his very fingers, the hammering of it so steady and hard that Remus has to swallow against the sensation it's causing in his throat.

"Shut up, Moony. I always want to look at you, all the time. You think your scars make you less than what you are? Beauty is more than whatever you think you see in this, in me." Sirius huffs, gesturing at his body in a frustrated wave of his hand. "It's - it's little things that seem magnified when you do them. Stuff like when you blow the steam from the tea in your mug before taking a sip or - or when I say something idiotic and you roll your eyes at me. It's the kindness you show Pete - the kindness you show everyone, actually. It's - it's - ugh. I'm not saying this right, am I?"

"Talking is one of your best skills, Sirius. You talk rings around us all."

"This matters though, I need you to understand. I'd do anything for you. I'll - I'll cut off all my hair - " Sirius magicks a snipping pair of scissors into the air before them. "I'll start wearing socks around Gryffindor Tower. I'll let you festoon me with any hideous jumper you like. I'll tell McGonagall it was me who enchanted those tapestries on the second floor. I would embrace _Snivellus_ like an old friend. Remus, I'd quit messing around for you."

"What, no more pranks?"

"No more pranks."

"Sirius, you don't have to give up anything for me." Remus tells him gently, pointedly vanishing the scissors. He bites his lip, casting his eyes downwards; Remus can't believe he's being consumed by diffidence at this crucial stage of the conversation and he begs Merlin that Sirius can't hear the tremble in his quiet voice. "I...want all of you, even the parts I'm not crazy - "

He's interrupted by the door of the dormitory as it creaks open and, with a groan of annoyance and the last of his patience used up, Sirius pulls out his wand and points it squarely at the door; it slams shut, the lock sliding into place, and then they hear the indignant yelling of a furious James on the other side.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? YOU NEARLY SENT ME FLYING DOWN THE STAIRS!"

Sirius shakes his head in mock despair, "You should be thanking me! You could have broken an arm and Lily Evans might have finally taken pity on you."

"That's not funny, Sirius! You can't just get your wand out and - "

"Go away, Prongs! I'm busy."

"All I wanted was Pete's chess set! Can I at least - "

"Sirius, perhaps - " Remus interjects but Sirius gives him a looks that stifles anything he may have suggested.

"No. Come back later!"

James falls silent. It's easy to imagine him on the other side of the door, his ear pressed against the wood, glasses hanging crooked across his face.

"...is that Moony in there with you?"

"Yes, we're resolving things. Don't worry, he's not going to hit me again - " Sirius breaks off, one side of his mouth pulling up into a smirk. "You're not going to hit me again, are you?"

"REMUS! TELL HIM I WANT THE CHESS SET!"

Remus opens his mouth to respond but Sirius cuts him off, "GO AWAY, JAMES."

"Fine! Fine, I'm going but the moment you come out of there, I'll - "

"Yes, yes. I'm sure you'll be very eager to pay me back in kind. Goodbye, James."

They wait and listen to the fading sound of James' marching footsteps. Sirius still has his wand aimed at the door but he keeps his eyes and hand on Remus, his breathing hard and obnoxious; Remus watches the rise and fall of his chest, convinced that he is in a dream and that he'll wake up to see the others snoring in their beds and the sun streaking in through this very window they're standing in. His heart gives a painful squeeze at the thought of it.

"You know, James won't be happy when you see him later." Remus points out, determined that if this is a dream, he'll at least play it out for as long as he can.

"Oh, hang James. He's never happy with me anyway." Sirius says bluntly, fingers reaching out to grab a fistful of Remus' shirt to reel him in.

Sirius Black is kissing him and it's not at all how he dared to imagine. It's better. Sirius is just as clumsy as he is at this, rushed and needy as if he is afraid Remus will disappear into himself again - and he is, he's terrified; it's all teeth and too much slobber and not enough breath for Remus to fill his lungs with before Sirius is on him again. Remus is glad the windowsill is behind him, he might have fallen to the floor if not.

Remus decides then and there that this is really happening. It's all too vivid, too real, for it to not be. After so long not talking to him, not being near him, it's like Remus is suffering a sensory overload. He breathes in the familiar scent of Sirius, peppermint toads and cigarette smoke, such a striking combination of adolescence and maturity, and he knows that even if he tried to, he would never be able to conjure such a pungent concoction in his imagination.

Sirius' wand, still in hand, sparks and Remus swears he can feel it singe the ends of his hair, not that Sirius is particularly concerned over that minor detail. He's too busy kissing and kissing and kissing, pressing chapped lips to any scrap of skin he can find, flying from eyebrow to chin and everywhere in between, sometimes stopping long enough to linger at spots of importance: Remus' old scars, his new cuts, the vulnerable squish of puppy fat beneath his jaw that he hasn't yet lost, a trace of childish roundness left behind. Sirius lifts his face again and steals the breath straight from Remus' mouth.

"Ow." Remus mumbles into Sirius' lips, breaking off the kiss reluctantly. His mouth feels raw, red. "Still a bit sore."

"You're blushing." Sirius says gleefully, peppering his cheekbones with feather light kisses, taking extra care at the bridge of his nose where the worst of his new cuts lay.

"You don't have to point it out."

Sirius' grin is absurdly fond as his fingers brush against the collar of Remus' shirt to straighten it out, moving to press his face against Remus' neck. His hands seem to jump on Remus' shoulders like they can't keep still. The both of them are gasping as if they've just emerged from the lake. "I knew you'd love me."

"What?" Remus asks, still dazed. He thinks he must be overheating. "What was that?"

"I told you that when we first met - I told you that you'd love me."

And something has changed. Remus finds he cannot even roll his eyes at Sirius saying that anymore because he's beginning to realise, after all this time, it's starting to become true.

Instead, all he says is, "I don't think this is what you had in mind." 

"No," Sirius concedes, laughing, finally stowing his wand away in the back of his trousers. He plants a wet kiss on Remus' cheek, his face equal parts dazzling and dazzled. "No, not when I first said that to you. Didn't take me too long to realise it myself though, just been waiting for you to catch up."

"What do you mean? Sirius," Remus says, eyes flitting between Sirius'. "Exactly how long have you been waiting? For me to catch up, that is."

Sirius idly traces the line of Remus' cheekbone with his thumb, raising goosebumps and rendering shivers from the touch alone. There's nothing urgent about this touch, Sirius knows he has all the time in the world for this. It would be sacrilege to rush now.

"Since the second time I said it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I'm already posting the penultimate chapter! I thought I'd just say a quick thank you to those who have read/subscribed/left kudos or a comment on this story. I know I'm not the best writer but I really did put a lot of hours into this fic so it means the world to me that you've stopped and noticed this tiny blip of a story on this massive website.
> 
> Thank you again. I'll see you next week for the final chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

The Last Day 

It begins and ends with Remus' bed.

It all starts much like every other day living at Hogwarts. Remus is first woken up by the rumbling sound of Peter's snoring, swiftly followed by Sirius' pillow being launched into his face.

Remus groans and throws an arm over his eyes, "I hate you."

"You love me." Sirius sings, oddly upbeat considering this is to be their last full day at Hogwarts. Without warning, he dives at Remus' bed, the posts rattling hard enough that Remus worries the whole thing will collapse around them. 

Remus wouldn't usually mind this; the knee to his stomach, his legs pinned down by Sirius' feet, even his face being engulfed within Sirius' unwashed armpit. Today is different though. Today is the end.

"Geroff!" Remus grumbles, flailing uselessly beneath Sirius, betrayed even by his own bed sheets as they ensnare and twist around his ankles.

"Sorry, didn't catch that - did you hear what he said, James?"

James barely stirs, still half asleep, "Hmm?" 

"That's what I thought," Sirius grins, freeing Remus from the depths of his armpit and pulling back to look down on him. The sharpness of his smirk bleeds away, leaving behind a soft smile in its place. His face catches the early morning light pouring in through the window. "Don't look so miserable, Moony. Exams are long over, it's a beautiful day, I'm lying on top of you - "

"Tsk."

"Always tutting in disapproval."

Remus doesn't think; he reaches up and brushes the hair back from Sirius' face, letting his fingers linger idly at his temple, fingertips lost in a tumble of curls. "You make it easy to disapprove. I think you were born to be disapproved of."

"One of us has to be the irresponsible one." Sirius says, ducking his head to press warm lips to Remus' mouth. Remus can feel the triumphant smile when he responds to the kiss but he lets it slide, just this once. 

"It's going to put you in Azkaban one of these days, you wait." Remus tells him between kisses, his hand twisted up in the loose shirt Sirius wears to bed. "You have no sense of...anything."

Sirius' laugh flutters across Remus' mouth, "You'd come visit me though, wouldn't you?"

"Knowing you, you'd deserve every second in there." Remus tells him sternly, trailing a light touch down Sirius' neck. "But yes. I absolutely would."

"Sorry to interrupt you two lovebirds but there are innocent eyes present." James calls over, kicking the blankets from his legs, jamming his glasses onto his face.

"Pete can deal with it." Sirius mutters, nosing his way along Remus' shoulder even as he tries to push him off.

"Hey!" Peter croaks indignantly, still on the edge of sleep.

James replies with a perfectly straight face, though he desperately wants to laugh. "I was talking about myself."

Sirius snorts with mirth but obliges, leaning back to fold his arms across his chest. "Oh, yeah? Like we haven't had to endure you snogging Lily Evans' face off all year?"

"Look, I'm amazed I even managed to get her to talk to me without making a fool of myself, let alone that she's willing to kiss me now. I'm just as surprised as you are."

"She still calls you a wart though, I heard her saying it at dinner the other day."

"Yes, but now she says it with love. There's a distinct difference. Anyway, what about when Remus threatens to report you to McGonagall? That's exactly the same thing."

"I know Moony would never. Same can't be said for Evans."

Their familiar rapport comforts Remus, makes him settle down into his pillow and let himself sink boneless into the mattress as Sirius' laugh rings out loud and clear over him. It had been tough that previous summer; Sirius had shown up at James' house with trunk in tow, begging to stay the night. He'd ended up staying the rest of the summer at the Potter's request and when Remus eventually saw him at King's Cross station, all he said was that he was finally free of his family.

James offered only a little more, telling Remus that Sirius' parents had kicked him out. He said that Sirius could hear his mother cursing his name off the tapestry before he'd even made it out of the front door. He hasn't spoken a single word to Remus about it.

"We should get a move on, I can hear the pancakes downstairs calling me." Sirius says, climbing off of Remus but not without a wink; a promise that this wasn't over.

"Yeah, we can all hear your stomach calling back, too."

"You're going to miss these mornings with me, Prongs. Mark my words."

"Are you kidding me? I've been waiting seven years to be shot of you."

The day feels off-kilter to Remus. He spends the entire time getting ready feeling as if he's put his trousers on backwards or forgot to brush his teeth. There's something strange and unsettling in the air that makes Remus uncomfortable, a hollow pang in his chest when they start their descent to the Great Hall.

It's only when they take their seats on the bench that he pinpoints the emotion. It's the same thing he feels every month, that same build up of anticipation as if standing on the edge of a great ravine and looking down with the sudden, unpleasant realisation that he's scared of heights.

Remus doesn't know what it is exactly, or why, but he feels the impending departure more intensely than ever staring into his sodden bowl of cereal. He's been staring into the milk and dregs for five minutes before Sirius notices that Remus hasn't said a word since they left the common room.

"Did you hear what I just said?" Sirius asks, kicking Remus' knee under the table. "Moony?"

"This is our last breakfast at Hogwarts."

"No, it's not. What about tomorrow?"

"Doesn't count," Remus says, shaking his head. He grabs the bowl with both hands and leans over it, as if to fall headfirst into it. "This is our last real day of being students."

"Okay. Is this what a true Moony freak-out looks like? Because you had me worried during N.E.W.T's when you did that thing with your eye. You remember how it did that twitching thing, James?" Sirius reaches out over the table, shoving cereal and plates of bacon aside in pursuit of Remus' hand. "This isn't going to be worse than that, is it?"

"No, no. I guess I'm just thinking too much, force of habit."

"You're not wrong." James says through a mouthful of toast, spraying crumbs down his shirt. "I swear I hear you thinking when you're sleeping. It's distracting."

"Distracting from what?"

"From me sleeping."

Sirius rolls his eyes with acute fondness. "Not everything is about you, Prongs."

"Of course it is! I'm the glue that holds this band of miscreants together."

Remus tries to make the most of this, of sitting with his friends as they chatter enthusiastically about plans to meet up for the summer with the feel of Sirius' thumb looping lazy circles against his knuckles, even accepting the mug of tea that Peter has pushed towards him but it's no good. He gets no further than two mouthfuls before he abruptly rises from his seat, garnering quizzical looks from his fellow Marauders.

"You're done already?" James says, reluctantly dropping his toast to follow Remus' suit.

"Don't worry about it, finish your breakfast. I'm just not that hungry."

Sirius is already on his feet, swinging his legs over the bench but Remus appeals earnestly, needing a moment to be alone.

"No, please." he says, stopping short when he sees the worry on Sirius' face. "Come find me after, okay?"

He doesn't look back at his friends when he walks down the aisle between the tables, hoping they won't go against his wishes and choose to follow him. He wants to have this final goodbye to Hogwarts alone.

How is it possible for him to miss Hogwarts before he's even left? He ignores the lure of the staircase for now, instead stepping out into the bright sunlight of the school grounds. He can't believe they'll never spend another night out here roaming the forest together, an unexpected bittersweetness he would never have dreamt of when he first received his letter all those years ago.

He spares a glance for Hagrid's hut on his way down to the lake, watching a few students bask in the morning sun at the edge of the water, spotting the dark shape of the giant squid sending ripples across the surface. Remus smiles a little at their favourite spot, beneath the spreading branches of the beech tree, wondering if they'll have time to lay down in the grass again before they leave.

From this view, Hogwarts looms bright and magnificent above him, light glinting from the high windows of its turrets. Remus wishes he could recall the way he felt when he first looked upon the castle, to recapture that breathtaking awe but now, all he sees is home.

The rest of the morning, Remus spends walking as much of the castle as he can. He lingers at portraits and stops to exchange a few words of greeting with his favourites, and skips all of the shortcuts he knows as well as the back of his hand to make the most of the corridors, barely passing a living soul. It's as if time has stopped and Remus wants to stay suspended in it.

He reaches the third floor in this dazed manner when the world catches up with him and breaks the spell.

"Hey! Moony, wait up!"

Remus turns to see Sirius jogging after him, a goofy smile spreading across his face as he approaches Remus. He falls into step and matches Remus' pace, clapping a hand on his back, snaking his arm along Remus' shoulders.

"You're a hard man to pin down, Remus Lupin. My ego told me I could find you without assistance but I had to consult the Map in the end. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, fine. Just felt like a walk." Remus grumbles, stuffing his hands deep inside his pockets.

"One last stroll about the castle, is it?"

"I didn't even think. I just followed my feet, I suppose."

Sirius stares hard at Remus, chewing at his bottom lip in contemplation. Remus gets nervous just seeing Sirius look at him that way. He has to fight the urge to pinch himself still, the idea that Sirius could like him back - has liked him before Remus could even sort through his own feelings.

"I have something to show you." he says suddenly, grabbing hold of Remus' arm and wheeling him through the nearest door.

Remus blinks in confusion, taking in the textbooks on the shelves, the desk he always sits at during lessons. "This is the Transfiguration classroom..."

Sirius reaches behind himself and pushes the door shut with fingertips, shrugging his cloak off in the same motion and leaving it in a heap at his feet. His dark hair, tied back from his face in a low bun, threatens to spring free at any moment, smiling grey eyes fixed on Remus.

"I know. I just wanted to catch you off-guard. Did it work?"

"Consider me completely thrown." Remus chuckles, the laugh dying in his throat when Sirius stops toe to toe with him. He leans back into the desk behind him, half sitting on it, worriedly glancing at the door. "Sirius, this is a classroom."

"And it's the end of term," Sirius reminds him, using the edge of the desk on either side of Remus to rest his hands. "I doubt McGonagall is going to show up any time soon. Let's not talk about her right now though, okay? It'll probably scar me for life, thinking about a teacher while I'm kissing you."

"Oh, so that's your angle?"

"Moony!" Sirius gasps in faux surprise, barely hiding his smile. "You make it sound like I'd planned this all out!"

"I wouldn't put it past you."

"You caught me." Sirius says, moving in so he can place soft kisses on Remus' throat. Remus hears himself make an embarrassing sound and he's grateful Sirius is too busy focusing on his neck to see his blushes. "In my defence, I've been waiting a long time."

It would be easy to spend days like this with Sirius, to lose himself in the feel of Sirius' mouth on any scrap of skin he can get to. Remus tips his head back without thinking about it, hot breath against his neck, words riding on the back of a deep, contented sigh.

"It might be good for your ego to wait a little longer."

"I don't think even you believe that, Moony." Sirius whispers, tracing over Remus' closed eyelids with a light touch. "Not from where I'm standing."

"I'll never admit to it."

Sirius rests hands flat against Remus’ ribs, making his thoughts unwind like pulled yarn on a jumper. "I expect nothing less. You've always been stubborn."

"And you've always been arrogant. I used to hate you for that, you know. I thought you were overbearing because you were spoilt, that you were used to getting your own way."

"Oh yeah? What changed?"

"I realised that it wasn't the reason," Remus breathes, struggling to call up the memory of those less than favourable feelings he'd had towards Sirius. He wants to laugh; that Remus had no idea what was heading his way, that in a few years time he'd have Sirius' mouth on his jaw and his hand creeping along his thigh. "I realised you only acted that way because you'd never been able to before. It was a phase, you worked out that it wasn't what you wanted to be."

Sirius surprises Remus with the ferocity of his next kiss, open mouthed and desperate, his hands finding their way into Remus' hair. 

"So you've always been this smart, huh? I guess I found out that being stuck up was more my brother's bag."

Remus bites down on his bottom lip, the words being pulled out of him before his brain can cry _wait! Don't!_ "...have you spoken to Regulus lately? Your mother?" Sirius' mouth stops moving against his skin. A shot of ice drops into Remus' stomach.

"Remus," Sirius says sharply, pushing him by the chest until there's space between them. Too much space. "Oh Merlin, please tell me you're not doing this right now?"

"I thought - since your father passed away - that maybe - "

"You're kidding? My mother didn't bother to tell me that he died. Regulus didn't even - "

His father died precisely a week before 31st October, so shortly after Sirius left home. Sirius had opened the Daily Prophet the morning of Halloween to find the announcement of his father's death; a small piece, suitable enough for the contributions he'd made over the years, for the powerful friends he'd made in his life. Sirius couldn't stop reading the final line: 'he leaves behind his wife, Walburga, and their son.' Son. Singular. Not him. His disownment was official, then. It was a generous scrap of gossip for the hungry public.

His eyes had automatically sought out Regulus across the Great Hall, he couldn't help it. Regulus regarded him back with an unshrinking, unblinking gaze and Sirius just knew. He knew that Regulus had already been told - undoubtedly by their mother, an impersonal letter, nothing but simple facts - and had kept him in the dark on purpose. He wanted him to find out exactly like this.

It hadn't always been this way between Sirius and Regulus. They'd been united once, fiercely protective of one another when they came to blows with their father, hiding together from their mother behind the heavy, musty curtains of Grimmauld Place so that not even the family's skulking house elf Kreacher could find them. It was a flimsy sanctuary but it had felt impenetrable at the time, just them and the dust motes until the heady apprehension slipped quietly away like grains of sand in an hourglass. Hear a noise, flip it over, and wait for it to lull again.

"I thought it might be easier to clear the air now, to put it behind you and - "

"Remus, I moved out. They kicked me out. They didn't want me, they've never wanted me. I was - I dunno - I was the failed spell and I guess by the time Regulus came around, they'd perfected the incantation, so to speak. Besides, my father was the reasonable one, believe it or not."

Remus makes to lean towards Sirius but he pulls back, away from him. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned it. It's just every day the papers are reporting more and more deaths and disappearances, it's getting harder to trust people and - "

"Did you think I'd care if something happened to them? Is that what you're implying? I feel nothing, Remus! I don't feel anything for them."

"I don't think that's necessarily true - I'm not saying you love them!" Remus adds hastily when he catches the dark look on Sirius' face. "But I know you must feel angry at them. Disappointed. Maybe resentful that they're who they are and you're - "

"What? One of them - a Black?" Sirius snarls, unable to look at Remus. 

He's ashamed of it, more ashamed lately than ever before. He's seen Regulus around school, fallen in with a bad lot, he knows what they call themselves and what they preach. They're careful not to get caught but Sirius knows the attitude they harbour towards Muggle-borns, knows that they've sent more than one to the Hospital Wing in unprovoked attacks. He knows that they're one small step from joining Voldemort permanently.

Remus' voice is strained, adamant. "No. A good man. Don't forget I've been there every time you got a letter from home. I know you tried your best to hide it but your face said it all, Sirius. It can't have been easy for you when you were still living there with them. "

"It wasn't. I'm never stepping foot in that house again for as long as I live. Look, I - I don't want to talk about it."

Remus grabs Sirius' face with both hands, demanding that he meet his eyes. Remus' voice goes quiet, lulling Sirius, calming him; he blinks hard and fast, chin jutting out. He won't cry, not in front of Remus - not in front of anyone. Not over them.

"I wish you would. I wish you would tell me." Remus tells him. "You’re so hard to get to, Sirius. It’s like you’re all bricked up inside of yourself, at least a part of you is. No - please - don't worry. I'm not going to push it, I would never."

Sirius doesn't say anything, prying Remus' hands from his face. He doesn't move away like Remus expects him to - Remus, alarmed and panicky that he's ruined everything for one heart stopping, gut-wrenching minute. Instead, Sirius sighs in a long, juddering breath and slowly lowers his head until he can smell clean cotton, until Remus' shirt is pressed against his eyes and his nose is smushed into Remus' neck. Remus feels Sirius' arms close in around his back and he doesn't wait long before he reciprocates the action, he doesn't mind that Sirius is slowly crushing him.

"I can't, not right now. I - hope I can - one day - " Sirius mumbles thickly. Remus feels the vibrations of his voice reverberate into his shoulder, the dampness of snot from Sirius' nose spreading through his shirt. "I'm not asking you to drop it, alright? Just - let me forget about them for a little while."

"Anything, Sirius. It's okay. We'll do just that, we'll forget about them for as long as you want."

*** 

They have to leave soon. Remus should be downstairs; he should be joining his friends in the giddy exhilaration of their final morning at Hogwarts, of looking ahead to the beginning of their future. Instead, he’s spread-eagled on his bed, trying to figure out where all this time went.

"Mind if I join you?" 

Remus starts at the sound of Sirius' voice, limbs flailing as he tries to get up but there is a gentle pressure on his shoulder, guiding him back down onto the mattress. He allows it too, realising that he won't know when he'll have another chance at this - at letting Sirius cajole him into, well, everything. 

He looks at Sirius now, quietly despairing over that completely ridiculous leather jacket that he's owned for what feels like a lifetime and only just grown into, watching as Sirius yanks it from his arms and tosses it over onto Peter's bed without a second thought. Remus is struck by how calm Sirius is; why does he still feel like a scared, little boy?

"I didn’t hear you come in.” 

Sirius grins, “All these years and you still don’t know I’m a master at stealth. So are you going to budge up?"

“I guess I have no choice, do I?"

"You know you don't mean that - you don't, do you?" Sirius' expression flickers to doubt and Remus hates himself all over again for putting that uncertainty into Sirius to begin with, for the way he treated him in 6th year. Sirius is the only thing he's ever been sure of.

"No, I don't mean it."

The bed dips down when Sirius clambers onto it, too cramped for two grown boys in their seventh year to lie comfortably, and Remus almost rolls onto him. Sirius steadies him, fingers clenched at his forearms, a roguish smile spreading across his face. Remus feels the kick in his stomach, somewhere near his naval area, knowing his eyes - quite out of his control - are slipping down to Sirius' mouth, travelling down to his bobbing throat, making the trip all over again.

"What are you thinking?" Sirius asks, his smirk growing wider to show teeth when he sees the flush across Remus' cheeks.

"Nothing," Remus says too quickly, still embarrassed around Sirius even now. "Well, no - not nothing, exactly but...everything." 

Sirius is always quick in his replies, "Nothing and everything!? Why, Moony, you've been holding out on me. Who knew you were so philosophical?"

Remus drops his head onto the pillow and angles his head away, playing with the sleeves of his jumper. It's easier to talk to Sirius when he's not looking directly at him, better to push on when he can't see Sirius' instinctive wit flare up in a spark of a playful glance and the quirk of his lips. 

"I just - I'm thinking about how I can't see my life beyond this point, even this very second. The future seems too big and uncertain and too dark. I don't want to leave this behind: these stone walls and having feasts in the Great Hall and the view from my window and this bed I've slept in for the past seven years and - and you. I especially don't want to leave you behind." Remus confesses to his bedside table. 

The table remains maddeningly silent after his declaration and he fears he's said too much. He knows he has a tendency to say too much sometimes, whereas Sirius is more prone to bottling everything up until it all explodes out of him at once.

"I don't know what I'm going to do." he whispers, trying to move past any implication of his future with Sirius. "Everyone expects something from us and they make it sound so easy. They want us to get our education, find a job, get married and have children.  
That's the kind of normal I can't have but I - I want it."

Of course, Sirius does what he knows best and redirects the conversation back to the exact place Remus wants to avoid.

"Join the Order with me."

He makes is sound so simple, like he doesn't even have to give it any thought. Remus has been worried about Sirius' own plans for the future, feared that this is the road he's been heading down for a long time coming and Remus was too scared to say anything about it in case it spurred him on further.

Remus isn't sure about this path.

"I don't know..."

"James is, he told me yesterday. Pete is joining too - "

"Peter will do anything as far as James is concerned. It's going to land him in trouble soon enough."

"Stop deviating from the point. You don't want normal. You can't really want to be like that? Do you really want to slip into that routine where you're just going through motions?" Sirius sits up and leans over Remus, appealing earnestly. "I feel stuck, Remus, like I'm wrapped up in spellotape and I can't move in any direction. I've been told my entire life what I should do and who I should be and now, I have the chance to - to do what I want, to BE who I want. I don't want to treat my life like it's a checklist anymore, I'm sick of it. Deep down, I don't think you want that either."

"Sirius - "

Sirius slides his hand across Remus' stomach, over his chest, releasing a deep sigh like he already anticipated this conversation. 

"Look, people have their birthdays, right? They count up the years and blow out the candles until suddenly, they realise they've started counting down the days. Their whole life, POOF, just gone. Surely you want something to live for?"

"Who says having a family can't bring you that? You think duels and glory will bring you fulfilment, I think something else will." Remus says, his voice on edge. "You have a wandering soul, Sirius, I think you always have. I know you find it hard to - to stay...stuck. I know it will near kill you if you have nothing to do with your life."

Sirius is silent, even as Remus works himself into a frenzy; Remus knows him as well as his own mind, there's nothing for him to add or deny. Sirius waits, choosing his moment to intervene.

"I can't live that way. I don't think I have the energy, Sirius. I don't." 

Remus feels the weight of his words, hears the truth ring in them. He's spent his life, as far back as he can remember, fighting. He's been ceaselessly fighting all this time, trying to build himself up mentally every month but it gets harder all the while. Remus doesn't know how he can possibly wade into a war and come out intact.

He focuses on the matter at hand, knowing everything is hinged on this current discussion, "How can this ever work, Sirius? We're too different. You'll get bored of me and my nagging and - "

Fingers grab his jaw and encourage his head to turn back and he finds Sirius' solemn face hovering over him, the lengths of his hair tickling his cheeks. Remus fights to not brush them away and detract from the moment because he has rarely seen Sirius so grave; he's always ready to bite back with a laugh and a joke, and this stops Remus in his tracks.

"Hey, Moony, let me be clear. All this talk of being stuck? I'm stuck with you, Remus. I want to be stuck with you for the rest of my life." Sirius tells him gently, sternly. Even before he says the words, he knows he means it - that he's meant it for a long while now. "I want to do everything with you."

He's always loved Remus, he'll continue to love Remus for as long as he lives. Sirius is acutely aware of the fact he would never become bored of looking at Remus, of spending time with him, of laughing and talking and being with him. He didn't know he was capable of feeling this way but he's sure of it, as certain as he can ever be. 

Perhaps there's a small part of him - the selfish, taunting, undeserving side - which knows his life is strung in beads of disturbance, held together by his want for constant action and disruption, that Remus fits the mould because he is anything but ordinary. That tiny, well hidden part of him has latched itself upon the knowledge that Remus will never have or ever be normal, not while the moon continues to wax and wane. Maybe Remus is another one of those beads but Sirius could never admit it to himself, he would never want to. Remus deserves a whole lot more than that.

"The rest of your life, huh? Are you sure about that?"

"Remus Lupin, I'm officially awarding you a life sentence of me." Sirius announces. "Just think about the Order, okay? I won't make you do anything you don't want to do." 

"Awarding? More like punishing."

"You don't mean that." Sirius rolls his eyes and tilts his face down, nose bumping into Remus', "I've actually been meaning to tell you something - well, ask."

Remus' interest - and breathing - spikes, "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," Sirius says, pushing fingers through Remus' hair, fidgeting. "It's just a thought, you don't have to say yes or anything, not if you don't want to but - my uncle left me a bit of money and I've sort of found a place in London I like the look of. I can't stay at James' forever and what, with leaving school, it seemed like the perfect time."

"What are you saying, Sirius?"

Sirius' cheeks hollow out as he sucks in a deep breath. "Well, I was kind of wondering if maybe you wanted to...come with me?"

"You can't be serious."

"Remus, I am the picture of seriousness. The most serious of Sirius'."

"But - but we're just seventeen - I don't have a job or - "

Sirius barrels on before Remus can begin to worry himself out of accepting the offer, "It's nothing too fancy but it's spacious enough. There's a spare room that I thought we could reinforce for when the full moon comes about, put a few Silencing charms on it so the neighbours don't go running. That way, I'll always be there in the morning - at night, too, if you wanted me."

"I don't know what to say..."

"You don't have to say anything, not yet." Sirius tells him, smacking a wet kiss on his forehead. "Besides - " he makes a show of clearing his throat, puts on a voice that can only be a poor imitation of Remus himself. " - I don't want to leave you behind, either."

Remus gently elbows him in the chest. "Idiot."

"Oh, come on, you love me."

And Remus, for all his worth, stops thinking. He stops holding onto his misconception of dignity, he lets his mouth finally say the thing he's been choking back all this time and right in this moment, he doesn't care if he'll be embarrassed or if Sirius will laugh and tease at his sincerity because he knows he will never regret saying it. His heart pounds hard and fast, as if it may fly out of him at any second but just catching the peppermint scent from Sirius a mere hairs-breadth away is enough to spur him on - his heart can be damned. It already is.

"I do. I love you."

Sirius doesn't laugh. He doesn't tease - well, not really. Not much. His smile is slow, slower than it could ever be; it takes a lifetime for that smile to peak. Remus feels as if his head is spinning but that's impossible, he can still feel the tip of Sirius' nose pressed lightly against his own. Then he realises; he's stopped breathing. 

Sirius pulls back a fraction and Remus thinks he must be sucking in the room's supply of oxygen with one breath.

"Moony - Remus. " Sirius amends softly. Remus can feel his own name land on his face from Sirius' lips, tattooed into his skin by the firm press of Sirius' mouth against his. "Haven't I been telling you that all along?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested, I've created two playlists for this fic. They're mostly songs I listened to a lot while writing specific chapters, have a meaning that ties in with the content of a chapter or they simply just capture the mood I wanted.
> 
> If you want an eclectic mix of music for your Marauder needs: [Carpe Noctem](https://open.spotify.com/user/hayleyisbored/playlist/6iRAwbHBjZ52tAlaxDdPxc)
> 
>  If you're looking for era-appropriate 70's music, click: [Carpe Diem](https://open.spotify.com/user/hayleyisbored/playlist/72cxcXlb1oNyBSzclzcvul)
> 
>  Finally, one last thank you to everyone who stopped and read this. I really appreciate it.


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